The Night of the Stolen Hours
by The Wild Wild Whovian
Summary: Jim West has disappeared! And yet when he turns up again, he has no memory of what became of him. So now Our Heroes must unravel the mystery of Jim's missing day - and they'd better be quick about it too, for unbeknownst to them, their arcane adversary isn't done with them yet - no, not by a long shot.
1. Teaser

**Teaser**

Artie was going to kill him, Jim thought as he rode back to the train. They were between assignments and in the middle of a brief layover in St Louis while the engine of the Wanderer underwent an overhaul, so Jim had headed off into the city for the afternoon. Only it wasn't afternoon anymore; it was full night. The sun had already sunk beneath the western horizon while the moon, plump and a couple of days from full, was sailing high in the eastern sky. Artie the mother hen was going to be worried sick that something had happened to Jim.

And yet what really had happened Jim considered to be simply absurd. Oh, not the part where he had struck up a conversation with a lovely young lady and impulsively invited her to dine with him in a fine restaurant, nor the part where he had accompanied said young lady - Diana Jones, her name was - to the theater for a matinee performance. No, the absurd part was that Jim had fallen sound asleep during the second act. He had awakened to the feeling of a hand shaking his shoulder as a voice called out, "Mister? Hey, mister, c'mon, wake up. Show's over. You need to go on home." Jim had opened his eyes to an empty theater save for himself and the anxious young usher - yes, even the lovely Miss Jones had abandoned him. Moments later the usher had escorted Jim outside and left him on the board sidewalk in front of the building, his eyes bleary, his head groggy.

He'd been so bleary and groggy in fact that he'd wondered momentarily if he should suspect the presence of a certain little wizard and his giant sidekick. But no. There had been no sign of either, no maniacal laughter floating on the breeze. At length Jim had stepped over to the nearest horse trough, worked the pump until fresh cold water gushed from the spigot, then caught a double-handful and splattered it all over his face.

Ah, that had cleared his head! Reinvigorated, he'd checked his watch, winced at how late it was getting, then whistled up his horse to head home.

He was nearly to the railroad yards now. First he rode up to the livery stable where he and Artie had arranged to board their horses during the layover, and turned Blackjack over to a stable boy. He paused for a moment to say good-night to Artie's chestnut gelding Henry, then set out on foot for the depot.

"Hey!" called a voice as Jim drew near the door. "Aren't you James West?"

Jim turned to find a policeman bearing down on him. "Yes, I am," he replied. "Is there a problem, officer?"

"Problem? Not for me, there isn't. Someone's looking for you. Would you mind coming with me?"

Jim hesitated; his eyes narrowed. What was going on here? "Actually, I do mind," he answered. "Why don't you tell me here and now who's looking for me and where you have in mind taking me?"

"Well, sir, it's just that…"

A second man in uniform emerged from the depot. "Problem, Clancy?"

"Why, no sir! I just found Mr West and I…"

"Ah, Mr West! It's high time you showed up! Now, just come along and let's get this over with." He reached for West's arm.

To find that West's arm was no longer within his reach. "Get what over with?" Jim asked. His tone was courteous, but his posture resolute. What was going on here? Were these even real policemen?

The second man sighed. "Clancy, go tell the others to call off the search." And as Clancy hurried to obey, the man added, "As for you, Mr West, you just come along now and stop making such a fuss."

"There's no fuss. There's just you telling me to come along and me wanting to know why." Jim spread his arms, still smiling winsomely. "Am I under arrest?"

The officer scowled. "Not yet, you're not, but if you keep giving me trouble, I'll…"

"You'll do what?" Jim was still smiling, but the look in his eye was becoming dangerous.

"None of your lip, you young reprobate! Now, come on!" The policeman yanked the truncheon from his belt and brandished it, smacking its length against his palm threateningly.

Jim shook his head and took up a fighting stance. All he wanted to do was go home. Why did he have to deal with this highhanded idiot-in-a-uniform right now?

The officer lunged at him, swinging the truncheon. Jim leaned out of the way, then seized the man's arm and twisted it up behind his opponent's back, easily relieving him of the weapon. "Now," said Jim reasonably, "let's talk. Who's looking for me and why?" And how, he also wanted to ask, did a man of such _staggering _intellect make it into the police force in the first place?

Before his prisoner could reply, young Clancy reappeared from around the far corner of the depot, followed by a couple more policemen. "Sergeant Flaherty!" he cried. "What's going on here? Mr West, let go of him!"

Two more officers came dashing around the corner, then still more, until there were nearly a dozen men confronting James West.

With a sigh, Jim released Flaherty. The man straightened the hem of his uniform with a jerk, then coldly glared at Jim and proclaimed, "You're under arrest!"

"On what charge?"

"On whatever charge I can think of! Get him, men!" Obediently, the officers swarmed James West.

The melee was brief and involved a great deal of flying bodies, none of them Jim's. By the time one final man came charging around the corner mere moments later and took in the sight, no less than seven officers were scattered about the depot porch in varying stages of consciousness.

And now the fight ended abruptly as that final man called out, "Jim!"

"Hey, Artie."

"What's going on, Clancy?" said Artemus Gordon. "When you came and told me you'd found Mr West, I had no idea I'd walk into a scene like this! I just wanted you officers to search for him, not try to subdue him!"

The few remaining policemen who weren't senseless melted back from Jim as Artie came forward and warmly clasped his friend's hand. "Are you a sight for sore eyes!" Artie exclaimed fervently. "Where've you been, Jim?"

West shot him a look askance. "In St Louis, of course. I rode in for the afternoon, remember? Now I knew you'd be upset with me for being gone till nightfall without sending you word, but I never expected you'd have search parties out looking for me!"

And now Artie returned the sideways glance. "Gone till after nightfall! What are you talking about? Jim, you rode into St Louis _yesterday _afternoon. You've been missing for over twenty-four hours! I haven't just been sending out search parties, buddy. I've been making arrangements to have the river dragged." Artie laid a hand on Jim's shoulder and added, "When you weren't back by noon today, well… I was afraid you were dead!"


	2. Act One, Part One

**Act One, Part One**

"Well, Dr Mitchells?" the hovering Artemus inquired.

The physician pulled the earpieces of his stethoscope from his ears and leaned back in his chair in the varnish car of the Wanderer. A shirtless Jim West was perched on the sofa opposite the doctor. "Well," said Mitchells as he stroked his chin thoughtfully, "Mr West seems to be in fine shape. His reflexes are good - no, better than good! His eyes track well. No signs of concussion nor of contusions - at least, not to his head." And Mitchells waved at a few areas on Jim's torso that were beginning to purple up, souvenirs of his recent tussle with the police.

"Then whatever happened to me, I wasn't knocked out," said Jim.

"Not by a blow to the head, no," Mitchells agreed.

"But what about an injection, doctor?" asked Artie.

Mitchells shook his head. "If anyone's poked a needle into Mr West in the past forty-eight hours, Mr Gordon, whoever did so chose a far more imperceptible site on this man's body than I can discern. In short, our young friend here is in excellent physical condition." And with a fierce glower towards Jim, the doctor added, "Do attempt to keep yourself that way!"

"Yes, Mother," said Jim.

"Hmph! And you, Mr Gordon!"

"Me?"

"Yes, you! The least you could do is try to keep a tighter rein on this young rascal!"

Artie grinned. "Oh but, Dr Mitchells, I would have thought you'd have figured it out by now."

"Figured what out?"

"Why, that no one ever keeps a tight rein on James West!"

"Hmph!" Mitchells snorted again, mainly, so it seemed, to avoid cracking a smile. He packed up his equipment into his little black bag and snapped it shut. "It never fails," he said. "Every time the pair of you land in St Louis, I wind up patching up one or both of you. Every single time!"

"You should be pleased to have such steady customers, Doctor," said Jim easily.

"Pleased, my eye! Do you think I _want _to retire on the income I get from you two?"

"Speaking of which…" Artie passed Mitchells some money, then saw him off the train. "Well, James?" he added as he crossed back to where Jim was shrugging his way into a crisp white shirt.

Jim shook his head. "I still find it hard to believe I lost an entire day and wasn't aware of it."

Artie detoured to the desk. "I can show you this morning's paper if you'd like. It has the date on it."

"I know. I already looked."

"Ah."

"But you know as well as I do," Jim continued as he finished buttoning his shirt, "that dates on newspapers can be faked."

Artie paused for a second. "Well, all right, I'll admit that's so, but I distinctly remember living through the rest of yesterday after you left, and then last night, and then this morning wondering where you were, and so on through all those hours of worry, searching for you, calling in the police, et cetera, et cetera."

Jim frowned. Artie had a point.

"Occam's Razor," Artie went on, "would posit that it's far easier to remove a set of memories - real ones - than it is to manufacture a set of false memories and have them accepted as real."

That was a good point too.

"And on top of all that," Artie added, "just feel of your chin there, Jim. That's more than a single day's growth of whiskers you're sporting."

"Oh?" Jim ran his hand over his jaw, then said, "Hmm. Funny you should bring that up, Artie. Remember our trip to Russia?"

"Our trip to… Oh my, yes! I remember waking up to find a babushka holding my nose as she gave me a very close shave. I was afraid to move for fear she'd pull my false nose right off!" He shook his head at the memory.

"Uh-huh, Artie. And?"

It took Artie a second, but then he shot Jim a look. "Oh, ok, so that _was _an instance of someone manufacturing false memories for us when they made us think we'd gone on a long sea voyage to Siberia. So you're saying I still need to prove to you it's Wednesday night and not Tuesday?"

"Mm-hmm."

"All right." Artie leaned over the desk, opened the set of fake books, and pulled out the telegraphic key. "You just sit right down here, James, and have a nice little chat with Col Richmond then. I've been burning up the wires between here and Washington all day long keeping him apprised of your disappearance. In fact, I was a bit late to the party earlier - your little contretemps with the police, you know - because I was sending off a quick message to let him know you might have been found. But then what with fetching the doctor and all, I haven't had time yet to follow up on that. Therefore," and he gestured at the key, "be my guest."

As if on cue, the key began clicking.

"Ah, and there he is now. James my boy…"

With a roll of his eyes, Jim sat down and sent the acknowledgement, then listened as the clatter of the key filled the air.

…

Artie was up with the dawn the next morning, ready to - as Col Richmond had put it - find out what the blazes was going on there in St Louis. He shaved and dressed, then headed down the corridor to the parlor.

And there he found Jim, also shaved and dressed, sitting at the table perusing the day's newspaper.

"Morning, Artie. Breakfast is ready." Jim gestured at the coffee, eggs, bacon, and toast there on the table.

"Morning, James. You're up bright and early. And you cooked?" Artie cast a dubious glance at the spread.

"Actually, I never went to bed at all," said Jim as Artie took a cautious whiff of the coffee before pouring himself a cup. "I just couldn't sleep."

Artie paused in the act of adding a fourth sugar to his coffee. "What? _You _couldn't sleep? That's strange."

"Why?" Jim looked at him over the top of his paper. "Couldn't you sleep either?"

"Me? Naw, I slept like a baby." Artie sipped the coffee, grimaced, then took the coffeepot back to the galley to make fresh, leaving the swinging door open. "No, it's just that I know you developed that soldier's habit during the War of being able to catch forty winks whenever and wherever, even if it wound up only being twenty. And the opposite habit too, of being able to push yourself and go on without sleep for frightening lengths of time. So for you to _not _be able to sleep…" Artie finished refilling the coffeepot and left it on a hot burner of the stove to percolate, then returned to the parlor. "That's just very odd for you."

Jim folded the paper and dropped it beside his plate. "True. Hmm. I wouldn't be surprised if it turns out to have some bearing on what happened to me yesterday."

"Yeah. You know, you're probably right." Artie nodded at the paper. "Was there anything of interest there?"

Jim shook his head. "No. If there's anything in the local news to explain my missing day, I didn't spot it." He rose. "Look. I'll head over to the livery stable and get our horses ready while you finish your breakfast."

"All right. I'll meet you there shortly." Artie helped himself to some eggs as Jim got his jacket and gun belt, then sampled the eggs and added, "Well, whatever went on yesterday, I must say it didn't diminish your culinary skills."

Jim chuckled as he grabbed his hat and left.

And Artie gave a shudder. "Didn't diminish 'em; didn't augment 'em either!" And leaving that breakfast cooling on the table, Artie returned to the galley for a cup of joe that wasn't mud while he quickly whipped up some eggs that weren't rubbery, toast that wasn't black on one side, and bacon that wasn't black on both. And as he sat down at the table again to savor his meal, Artie smiled and murmured, "James my boy, it's certainly good to have you back home!"

…

Shortly Artie joined Jim at the livery stable and the pair mounted up, heading off to retrace Jim's prior excursion into St Louis. And as they rode, Artie frowned. "You know what's eating at me, Jim?"

Jim replied with a single word: "Why."

"You got it! That's it exactly: Why? Why did they do this? Why you? Why… well, whatever they did to you to cause you to lose a day, why did they do it? What was their reasoning? Did you witness something, maybe walk into the middle of, oh, some sort of criminal activity? Because _something's_ got to be behind this! And if we can figure out what that is, what the why behind this is, then that should lead us to the who and the how of it as well."

"I hope so, Artie. So far all I know is that, whatever they did to me, they certainly did it well."

"Amen to that. They wiped out a whole day's memory…" Artie paused and glanced at Jim. "At least… you still don't remember anything of Wednesday?"

Jim shook his head. "When I rode out from the train, it was Tuesday. When I fell asleep during that matinee, it was Tuesday. And when the usher woke me up in the theater last night, I thought it was still Tuesday. And despite the fact that today's paper clearly states it's now Thursday, I still have trouble believing it's not Wednesday."

They passed by a bank and Artie nodded toward it. "So, Jim, what do you think? You suppose there was a robbery in there and you spotted it?"

Jim eyed the bank speculatively. "There wasn't any mention of a robbery in the paper I just read."

"Yeah, well. Not everything that happens winds up in the paper."

"True," said Jim. "So let's go ask."

…

They spent the morning hours asking. Banks, jewelry stores - they inquired at every place they saw that they thought might attract a robber's fancy. When that didn't pan out, they checked at the newspaper office for any stories the editor hadn't seen fit to print.

And when that got them exactly nowhere as well, they came back outside and glanced up and down the street.

"Ok, that was a wash. Where to now?" asked Artie.

Jim pointed to an office a couple of blocks away. But as he started for that building, Artie caught his arm. "You really want to go there?"

"Of course. If anyone knows what's been going on in St Louis, _they _should know."

"Oh, I agree, I agree," said Artie. "The problem is, they'll know about _everything _- including that little misunderstanding out by the depot last night."

Jim shot his partner a sharp look. "What misunderstanding? I didn't misunderstand a thing. They all just kept telling me to come along and get things over with, but not one of them ever bothered to tell me why they were looking for me, nor that the person who'd sent them out to collect me was you!"

"I know, Jim, I know. But when we get in there and the chief of police lights into you - and he will! - if you'll just say you're sorry there was a misunderstanding and leave it at that, it will sound like you're sorry _you _misunderstood when what you're really sorry about is that _they _misunderstood. Right?"

Jim gave a snort. "That's what I like about you, Artemus: your Machiavellian mind."

"Well, of course! That's why you've kept me around all these years, right?" Artie grinned back as they set out for the police station.


	3. Act One, Part Two

**Act One, Part Two**

Roughly an hour later they were out on the sidewalk again. It had taken five minutes to learn that there had been no noteworthy crimes in the past couple of days, solved or unsolved. That final five minutes of their sojourn in the police station had been preceded by nearly an hour of Chief of Police Chesterton haranguing West over the altercation the night before until that worthy officer of local law enforcement had come nigh to popping a blood vessel in his temple and had finally withdrawn to his office, leaving an underling to deal with the federal agents. It was the junior officer who had confirmed to them what they'd already heard from the editor of the paper: nothing big, nothing of note, nothing at all. But…

"Yes?"

The young policeman glanced around furtively, then leaned very close and whispered, "But everyone's buzzing about what you did to that knucklehead Sgt Flaherty last night."

Jim and Artie's eyes met. "Oh?"

"Yep," the young man nodded. "And everyone's pleased as punch to have Flaherty taken down a couple of notches. Well, nearly everyone," and he cut his eyes toward Chief Chesterton's office. "They say," he added, and now he leaned still closer, his voice all but disappearing, "that Flaherty only got this job because his papa knows the mayor."

"Oh!" Artie nodded and winked conspiratorially. "Well, glad to be of service, eh, Jim?"

Jim smiled as they made their good-byes and left the building.

"And that… was a pleasant experience," opined Artie. "Something ventured, yet nothing gained. Except, of course, for the loss of yet another hour out of our lives." He dusted an imaginary speck off his hat, then donned it.

"Oh now, it wasn't a total waste of time," Jim replied.

"It wasn't?"

"No."

"You sure about that?"

"Of course I'm sure, Artie. We now know a lot more things that didn't happen."

Artie gave a snort. "Oh, how comforting! But we're still not an inch closer to figuring out what happened to you, Jim!" He turned to glare at his partner, then saw the teasing look on Jim's face. "And consarn it, Jim, if you're trying to make me laugh, it isn't working!"

"Nope. Not trying to make you laugh. Trying to make you mad."

"I don't need you to do that, Jim! That… that…" He waved his hand at the building they'd just left. "That fellow who needs to cut holes in his police chief's hat to let his long ears stick through already did that!"

Jim cut his eyes at Artie. "Hmm. Are you saying the man's a mule?"

"What? No, of course not!" Artie paused, then dropped his voice to add, "No, more like the mule's, ah, papa…"

Jim cracked a small smile. "That's what I thought."

The agents retrieved their horses and mounted up again. "So now what?" Artie asked.

"Let's go back to our first plan and retrace my steps from Tuesday."

"Fair enough," said Artie. And with a mischievous smile, he started off first heading back the way they'd come, leading Jim instead of letting Jim lead him.

…

After a while Artie reined up and dismounted, and Jim followed suit. They left their horses at the hitching rail and went into a small dark shop.

"Tobacconist."

"Mm-hmm."

The shopkeeper came out of a curtained area in the back, smiled at his customers, then took a second glance and positively beamed. "Ah, Mr Gordon! I see you found him! I'm so glad!" The little man came forward and shook hands with each of the agents, saying, "I do hope you're all right, Mr West?"

"Yes, I am, Mr Bradbury, thank you." Jim cast a glance Artie's way. "So you managed to track me this far, hmm?"

Artie grinned in reply.

"Oh yes!" said Bradbury. "When Mr Gordon came by yesterday, I told him you had stopped in on Tuesday to purchase a half-dozen of your favorite cigarillos. The last I saw of you was when you paused just outside the door as you were leaving to light one up. But then another customer came in - you held the door for him - and after that I was busy and didn't notice what became of you." And to Artie he added, "I do hope I was of help to you in your search!"

"You can be of more help," Jim responded. "Did you happen to notice if anyone was following me or paid any special attention to me during or after my visit?"

"Oh no, I didn't. I'm sorry, but I had that other customer to wait on and didn't see anything else." His smile faded for a moment, then came right back again. "But the important part is that you're back and you're safe." He grinned as he added, "You know, I'd just hate to lose one of my best customers!"

"I bet he says that to all his customers," Artie murmured with a chuckle after they stepped back outside into the sunshine. "So. Where'd you go from here?"

"You didn't track me any further?"

Artie shook his head. "No. I no sooner got back outside when young Clancy came along walking his beat. Once I'd asked him if he knew anything about your disappearance… well, that got the entire police force involved and I never got to look any further."

"Ah, I see. Well, I mounted Blackjack again," and he suited action to the words, "and moved on down the street."

Artie mounted up as well and they rode along again until they reached a nearby corner, where Jim reined up. "You see something?" Artie asked.

"Not now, no, but when I came through here yest… I mean, the day before yesterday, I saw a woman down that alley. She was falling off - if you can believe it - a penny-farthing."

"What? Why, I've never even heard of a woman riding one of those! Her skirts should make it impossible for her to sit astride on it - not to mention, all that cloth would be certain to get tangled in the spokes of the huge front wheel!"

"Well, as I said, she was falling when I spotted her. I jumped from Blackjack and ran to help her up. Her hands were scuffed, but other than that she seemed fine. I offered to see her to a doctor and when she refused that, I…" and Jim's eyes sparkled mischievously, "…offered instead to take her to lunch at Luigi's."

"Oh, now _that's _the James West I know, all right!" Artie exclaimed. "And the young lovely's name?"

"You're assuming she was young. And lovely."

"Yes. Well, again - I know you!"

"In fact, she did fit both descriptions. And I'll go ahead and give you a full description, since she was still with me for as much of the rest of the day as I can remember."

"All right," said Artie and pulled out a notepad and pencil. "Fire away."

"Light-to-medium brunette hair. Widow's peak. Hazel eyes, very large, with thick lashes. Face, somewhere between oval and heart-shaped, with a slight cleft in her chin, dimple in the right cheek, beauty spot on the left. Medium height, medium build. Very charming, very intelligent."

"And her name?"

"Diana Jones."

Artie finished writing and stowed the pad and pencil into his pocket again. "So you took her to Luigi's?"

"Yes." They remounted and headed that way.

"Now," Jim added, "as she and I went there, she never attempted to ride the penny-farthing again. At first she pushed it, which wasn't an easy task all on its own and all the more awkward for her considering she was also carrying a parasol. But once I offered to push the bicycle for her, I don't recall her ever touching the vehicle again."

"So you weren't on horseback."

"No. I was pushing the velocipede and Blackjack…" Jim frowned.

"Yes?"

Jim was silent a bit longer, then said, "Blackjack walked along behind me till we reached Luigi's. I remember wrapping his reins around the hitching post there. After that, Miss Jones and I walked to the theater. And then when I came out of the theater and didn't see him, I whistled for Blackjack and he came trotting down the street to me. It's just that…"

"Still saddled?" asked Artie.

"Yes, he had all his tack on him." Jim reached out and patted the big black horse's neck. "Poor guy! You got stuck with staying fully dressed all day! And I wonder where you went?"

"He must have been hungry," Artie commented.

"Hmm. Perhaps he found some place like the city park and helped himself to the grass," Jim replied. A cold fury was growing in his eyes. "Well, now I'm even angrier with our unknown villain. Not only did he steal all those hours from me, but he caused me to neglect my horse!"

Artie shook his head in sympathy, knowing that Jim would never willingly mistreat his animal so. "Yes, that's just unforgivable," he said.


	4. Act One, Part Three

**Act One, Part Three**

The reception the two agents received when they set foot inside Luigi's was effusive, to say the least. "_Signor _West! _Signor _Gordon! How good-a to see you again! Come in, come in!" The owner greeted each man with a hearty handshake, then gestured toward a table. "You want-a your usual, eh?"

"Actually, Luigi," said Jim, "we didn't come to eat; we need to ask you…"

A soft _ahem _interrupted him. He glanced at his partner to find that Artie wasn't even looking at him. He was merely holding out his pocket watch to let Jim see for himself that both hands of it were pointing in the close vicinity of the twelve.

"Ah. On second thought, yes, we would like our usual. But we need to ask you some questions as well."

"_Buone, buone!" _Luigi beamed as he saw them to their table, then caught the eye of a waiter and gave a nod. And once Luigi was satisfied that his honored guests were being well taken care of, he settled into a chair at their table with them and said, "Now, my friends, you wish-a to ask me about… Ah, but of course! About _la signorina bellissima _with-a whom you dine on-a Tuesday, eh?"

Artie grinned. Jim said, "That's right, Luigi. We need to find her."

"Ah, she was an angel, that-a one! Beautiful! Gorgeous!" He went on at length describing _la signorina's _charms, partly in English, partly in Italian.

Artie at last reached out and tapped their host's hand. "Yes, Luigi, a veritable Venus. But what can you tell us about her? Do you know where we can find her?"

The _ristoratore _spread his hands eloquently. "I wish I could-a help. But-a her, I never see before-a she come in on-a _Signor _West's arm." He looked at them both. "She is in-a trouble?"

"Maybe."

"We don't know yet. So if you see her again…"

He nodded. "I send-a you word, yes." Suddenly his eyes shifted beyond them and a smile lit his face. "_Buon giorno!_" he cried as he jumped from his seat and made a beeline for the door.

Both Jim and Artie turned to have a look, half expecting to see the young lovely in question gracing the door step. But no. Quite the contrary, in fact, the customer just entering was an elderly gentleman with thinning hair, thickening eyebrows, and a craggy face. And to James and Artemus, the face was a familiar one.

Familiar to Luigi as well, it was plain. "Professor-a Koltien!" the _ristoratore _exclaimed jovially. "How good-a to see you! We were-a worry for you yesterday when-a you don' come-a to dine."

The old man frowned as he drew the long-stemmed pipe from his mouth to blurt out, "Yesterday? Why, whatever are you talking about? Why would I have come yesterday, dear fellow? That was Tuesday. _Today _is my regular day: Wednesday!"

And as Luigi gaped at him and began to protest, the two federal agents exchanged a glance.

"Isn't that interesting, Artie?"

His partner nodded. "Someone else who's missing a day."

Luigi was still sputtering as Artie hopped up and called out, "Professor Koltien! I'm sure you remember us. Won't you come and share our table?"

With one last befuddled look at the proprietor, the professor nodded and threaded his way among the tables to greet the agents. "Why, thank you, gentlemen, I'd enjoy that very much. Especially as I have a small bone to pick with you, James." He turned a severe glower Jim's way.

"You do?" asked Artie in surprise. After all, it had been months since the pair of them had consulted with the retired schoolmaster over a case involving an old manuscript, which was the professor's area of expertise.

"I most certainly do!" Around the edges of the glower a teasing twinkle was creeping into view. "You brought that magnificent creature by my house last night to meet me, James, and…" He gave a rueful laugh. "Well, I sat down with her to have a lovely talk about my favorite topic - old books, you know - and… I must have lost track of the time. Woke up prodigiously late this morning. I, ah… didn't make a fool of myself, did I? You know how I _will _go on and on whenever I find a willing ear to listen to my blather!" He smiled genially.

Jim glanced over at Artie. "Last night?"

"Oh, yes," said the professor.

"I brought Miss Diana Jones to your house to meet you."

"Mm-hmm. Or, well… Perhaps my memory's not the best these days, but I was sure you said - or it might be that she did - that her name was _Selene _Jones."

"Ah," put in Artie, "would you mind describing Miss Jones, please, Professor?"

The old man obliged, and while his rendition was neither as fulsome as Luigi's nor as terse as Jim's, it was obvious he was speaking of the same girl.

"And we were there last night," said Jim.

"Well, yes!" Koltien gave an uncertain laugh. "Are you telling me you don't remember?"

"Just a minor clarification, if you don't mind, Professor," said Artie, smiling, "but when you say last night, you do in fact mean Wednesday night?"

"Wedn…!" The professor turned an incredulous glare at Artemus, his impressive eyebrows knitting. "Well of course, I don't mean Wednesday night! That would either be a week ago or else tonight, which hasn't happened yet. I mean _last _night - Tuesday night!" He shot a look at Luigi as well and grumbled, "What's wrong with everyone? Don't even know what day of the week it is!"

Jim called over a waiter and made a brief request. And just as their meal was being served, the waiter returned with a newspaper and laid it before the professor. A look at the front page nearly brought the old fellow to the point of apoplexy.

"Thursday! But _what became of Wednesday?"_

…

Much to Luigi's chagrin, very little of his excellent meal was enjoyed by his three honored guests that noon. After the three men shared with each other what they knew of the events of Tuesday evening and of Miss Whatever-Her-First-Name-Was Jones - and what they knew was admittedly very sketchy indeed - they decided with nearly mutual and mostly silent consent to abandon the meal in order to go search the professor's house. As they rode in a carriage back to the house with Jim's and Artie's horses tied to the back of the carriage, Jim said, "It's the only thing that makes sense: she used me to meet you, Professor. But why did she wish to meet you?"

"I don't suppose," said Artie, "that you noticed anything in particular missing from your house, did you?"

Koltien shook his head ruefully. "I was too groggy upon rising to notice anything amiss save that it was terribly late. And once I shaved and my head cleared at last, I hurried out at once to go dine at Luigi's, believing the day to be Wednesday, yesterday. But… how did she do that? How did she cause both you and I to lose an entire day?"

"We don't know yet, Professor."

"We're working on it."

"I wonder…" murmured Koltien as the carriage drew up before his small, tidy house. So distracted was the old man that he completely forgot to pay the cabbie before striding up to the front door and fumbling for his key.

"_Ahem!_" The cabbie looked pointedly at his other two passengers.

Artie turned to Jim, who was busy untying the horses from the back of the carriage. Jim paused only long enough to cut his eyes toward the driver and nod at Artie.

Artie sighed, then coughed up the fare. The cabbie tipped his hat cordially, checked to be sure the horses were away, then drove on.

Jim wrapped the reins for each horse on the railing of the professor's white picket fence before he and Artie headed through the gate to follow the professor inside.

Koltien stopped for a barely second inside the door to glance around at his amazing conglomeration of bric-a-brac, then made a beeline for a certain cabinet. "This is where I keep my most prized treasures, gentlemen, the oldest books in my collection," he said as he pulled out another key and, with shaking hands, fitted it into the lock. "I only hope…"

The lock clicked over and he threw the doors open. Almost instantly he gave a cry of horror. For there among the tilted display racks on which lay nearly a dozen fine old hand-made manuscripts was one display that was conspicuously empty. "No!" wailed Koltien. "The _Jubilatus! _She took the _Fra Jubilatus!_"

**End of Act One**


	5. Act Two, Part One

**Act Two, Part One**

"All right," said West, "let's go over it again. Tell us everything you remember about last night and Miss Jones."

"I… I can't… This is incredible! The _Jubilatus!_" The professor was seated on the sofa in his parlor, his hands propping up his forehead, stunned beyond belief.

"Some tea, Professor?" Artie offered.

"What?" Koltien looked up to see Gordon bearing in a silver charger with the old scholar's tea service upon it. "Oh. Oh, bless you, Artemus! Yes, yes, some, ah, some tea would be… would be, ah…" His voice trailed off.

Artie set about serving the tea, adding milk and sugar to the professor's cup. "Now, as Jim was saying, tell us again about Tuesday night," he said as he passed Koltien the steaming brew.

"I…" Koltien sipped. "Oh, this is just right. Thank you so much. I…" He took another sip, then laid the cup aside. "I had just finished the washing up from supper when there came a knock on the door. I opened it to find you, James, out on the porch with an exquisitely lovely young woman on your arm. I invited the pair of you in, and you introduced her to me as - yes, I'm sure of it! - as Miss Selene Jones. And really, after that, you barely said another word, James! She… oh, she was vivacious, charming. Captivating. She spoke as if she knew all about me, all about my collections, especially the books. She asked to see them…"

"Yes?"

"And?"

Koltien shook his head. "I… I remember pulling out my keys," and he took them out of his pockets. "You see? None of them is missing. I brought them out to unlock the book cabinet there," and he nodded toward it, still with its door standing wide open. "And… and that's the last I remember clearly. The next thing I know for sure is that I awoke in my own bed at about ten o'clock this morning, thinking it was Wednesday morning." He slipped the keys back into his pocket, then spread his hands. "But how could this happen? How could I sleep for more than a day like that?"

"That's what we've been wondering as well," said Artie with a glance at Jim.

"And when you looked over the whole house just now, you found that nothing is missing but the one book."

"Yes. Yes, that's right. The _Fra Jubilatus_."

"The most expensive book in your collection?"

"Well, that's the curious thing, James. In fact, no. The _Liber Ruber de Terminus Occidentalis _is older and more dear. If her whole object had been to steal something to sell, surely she would have taken that one. In fact, she could have very well taken all my books, indeed, all my treasures!"

"But she took only the _Fra_…"

"_Fra Jubilatus_. The author's name. He was a friar from the late medieval period. His manuscript - that is, it was written by hand, you know, predating Gutenberg - his manuscript was, well, something like a journal, and yet something like a collection of folk tales and fables. And yet…"

"Yes, Professor?" Artie refreshed his tea.

"Well," said Koltien, then laughed. "Oh, it's silly for me to beat around the bush like this! The fact of the matter is that Fra Jubilatus was an alchemist, and his book recorded the various, er, rituals he either developed for himself or else learned from others. Mind you, times being what they were, he couched these rituals in terms of old wives' tales or legends, often adding caveats delineating the terrible consequences that befell those of old who had attempted these rituals. A truly fascinating book. I've read it many times."

West and Gordon exchanged glances. "And has anyone ever shown an interest in, ah, acquiring this book from you, Professor?" asked Artie.

"Hmm?" Koltien looked up at the two agents and knit his formidable brows. "Why, why, not that I recall. Are you… are you thinking that perhaps the young woman had been sent here to steal the book for some other collector?"

"Is that likely?" asked Jim.

"Or possible?" added Artie.

"I…" Koltien frowned some more, then took up his pipe and began packing it, his hands carrying out the familiar actions automatically as he considered this line of reasoning. "I suppose it might be possible. I'm not sure about likely. You see, once word gets about that the _Fra Jubilatus _has been stolen, anyone who might now have it would not be able to display it or let on in any way that he has it, for fear that he'll be found out as the thief."

"Yes, we know, Professor."

"So the question is," said Jim, "is there anyone you know of who would want the book badly enough to obtain it under such circumstances?"

"Oh. Oh dear me! I… I don't know." He tried to light the pipe and failed. "Most… most of the collectors I know personally are old friends to me. I can't imagine… Would someone I know, someone dear to me, do such a thing?" He looked up at the agents, a deep pain in his eyes. "Is that even possible?"

Again Jim and Artie exchanged a look. Then Artie put on a bright smile and said, "Oh, I'm sure that's not it, Professor. There must have been some other reason behind this."

Jim stood up. "We'll be on the lookout, Professor. I'm sure the book will turn up."

"Yes. Please don't worry."

"Oh, but I can hardly help worry! The _Fra Jubilatus _is unique! What if…?"

"Yes sir?"

Koltien's face suddenly lost its pallor. "Oh, but surely someone as astute as the lovely Miss Jones would take good care of a manuscript such as this one! She spoke so knowledgeably!" He made another attempt at the pipe, this time succeeding in getting it lit. He took a long draw. "My friends, I do hope you'll be able to sort all this out and find my manuscript for me again!"

Artie smiled. "We'll do our best, sir."

"Good day, Professor."

"Good day."

The old scholar saw them out, and they heard him muttering to himself as they strolled along the walkway back out to the street where their horses awaited them.

"Mystery on top of mystery," Artie commented as they mounted up and started back into town. "You meet Miss Jones and lose a day from your life. You introduce her to Prof Koltien, and the same happens to him."

"Along with the loss of a valuable book," Jim agreed. "Her name changes, but she remains the same."

"True. She's the link between you, the professor, and his book."

"Right. We need to find her. And yet…"

"Yes?"

"Well, she sought me out first," said Jim. "That's how it all started, with her deliberately drawing my attention…"

Artie nodded. "Yes, with that penny-farthing bicycle."

"Mm-hmm." Jim frowned and turned to his partner. "Now, Artie, just how many penny-farthings do you suppose there are in a city like St Louis?"

Artie considered for a moment, then shook his head. "I have no idea. Could be dozens. Could be over a hundred!"

"Or could be only a handful," said Jim. He looked around to get his bearings, noting a tea shop, a milliner's, and a boutique. "I remember a recent time when we were in St Louis, that time when we were on the case for which we asked Prof Koltien's help. At one point as we were pursuing the thief, we passed by a bicycle shop." He pointed. "Somewhere in that area, as I recall."

Artie lifted his brows. "You want me to come along?"

"No. I want you to check out the theater with the matinee Miss Jones and I attended."

"Ah. Something up my alley."

"Yes, while I check out a different alley."

"All right. And what theater was it?"

"The Belvedere. They were putting on a production of _Hamlet_."

"Belvedere. So I'll… _Hamlet!_" He gaped at his friend. "And you fell asleep during the second act? Oh, James, _James! _I'm cut to the quick!"

Jim cocked an eyebrow. "Well, maybe if they'd had you playing the lead…"

"You'd have been hanging on my every word?"

Jim grinned. "I'd have fallen asleep during the first act. Have fun, Artie."

Artie laughed. "Yeah, you too." And they rode off in different directions.

No sooner had the two agents gone their separate ways than the door to the tea shop opened and a charming, intelligent young face peered out. The brunette smiled, flashing the dimple in her right cheek. She watched now one of the men, now the other, as they went riding away, then turned back into the shop and clicked her fingers. "That way," she said as a group of shadowy figures came to her side. She pointed after one of the agents, adding, "Keep him busy until I come." Stepping out into the sunshine, she then unfurled her parasol and rested it on her shoulder as she murmured to herself, "Meanwhile, I shall see to his partner - personally."

Chuckling, she strolled off in pursuit of the other agent.


	6. Act Two, Part Two

**Act Two, Part Two**

Artie found the Belvedere quickly enough. The long line out front spoke of the matinee performance that would soon be underway. Not wanting to wait in the line to be able to ask the ticket clerk for the manager, Artie simply went on around back, found the stage door, and let himself in.

"Who are you?" growled the man at the desk.

"Ah, good!" Artie responded, putting on his most winsome smile. "I was looking for the manager, please."

"Well, you found him. State your business!"

Deciding for once to go with the straightforward truth, Artie said, "Ah, well, you see, a couple of days ago, my friend attended your matinee…"

…

Jim had little trouble locating the bicycle shop. The bell above the door jingled as he went in. "I'll be right with you!" called a voice from the back.

Curious. That was a woman's voice. He hadn't expected a girl would work in a bicycle shop. Jim headed toward the back to find the source of the feminine voice.

"He's coming!" someone hissed softly within the back room.

Softly, but not softly enough, thought Jim. He reached the door to the back, paused to listen further, then slammed the door open. A grunt rewarded him; a figure clad in robes of black, the face hidden deep within a hood, reeled from behind the door and collapsed near Jim's feet.

Jim paid that one little heed except to note that, once down, the figure didn't stir again. He was already in the room, his eyes sweeping everywhere, looking for more threats. And he found them. Five more robed figures stepped from the shadows, at least that many still holding back, lurking. Where the girl whose voice had lured him here might currently be he didn't know; he saw no women, only the menaces in robes.

The five pressed forward, silently surrounding him, the only sound they made the swishing of their robes as they steadily circled closer.

…

"Let me get this straight," said the manager, fixing Mr Gordon with a gimlet eye. "You and your buddy are combing through St Louis trying to find his new girlfriend who skipped out on him?" The man snorted with disbelief.

"Well, yes," Artie responded. He had skimped on a few of the details of the cold hard facts; sticking with the straightforward truth was simply not his forte. "But you see, Miss Jones is a girl of surpassing beauty and charisma, simply beguiling in every way! If only you'd seen her, you'd understand!"

"Hmph." The manager scowled at him a moment longer, then said, "All right. Describe her to me again."

Artie obliged, then added, "And have you seen her by any chance?"

The manager's eyes narrowed. "In fact, I just might have. Is she maybe the girl who's standing right there behind you?"

Artie whirled.

…

As the circle of five slowly spiraled in at him, still moving in such eerie silence, Jim made a rapid visual inventory of the room. A work room it was, tools and spare parts of bicycles everywhere. A couple of penny-farthings stood near a wall, both vehicles overturned to rest on their handlebars and seats. Several wheels, large and small, hung from the rafters, and here and there lay some frames denuded of their wheels. A large toolbox, open with its tray sitting by its side, was on a worktable. But there was no workman here, only the dozen silent robed figures.

Without so much as a hiss or a nod to coordinate their attack, two of them broke formation and charged in, one aiming a blade-handed chop to the side of Jim's neck, the other a kick to his midsection. Jim sprang back and to the left, dodging both blows, then whirled. Just as he suspected, someone was coming at him from behind. This one got in a one-two combination on him, yet curiously, each hit just barely grazed Jim's skin.

But the opponent had done that on purpose, Jim realized. This fighter was boasting of his complete control in the situation by pulling his punches. Well, that might be appropriate in practice, but in a fight it was silly to be such a show-off. Jim punched back, his fist connecting solidly with that fighter's abdomen, dropping the braggart into a puddle of black robes.

A rustle of cloth alerted him and Jim dropped to the floor himself, just in time for the next fighter to go sailing over his head. Another movement caught Jim's attention, showing him that two of the figures from the shadows had moved up to replace those who were down.

Two floored, six surrounding him, four in reserve. All right, thought Jim, who's next?

…

There she was, just as Jim had described her, right down to the parasol she was in the act of closing. "Miss Jones?" Artie ventured.

"Yes indeed," she replied, the dimple in her cheek springing into view. "Phoebe Jones. And you must be Mr Gordon." She held forth her hand.

Artie took the hand briefly and murmured a greeting. What was she up to? he wondered.

"Oh, it's so lovely to meet you at last, Mr Gordon," she said, all sweetness and light. "And what a marvelous first name you have! Artemus!" She dimpled once more. "My, but it's just so… appropriate!"

Artie frowned. What did she mean by that?

"Ah, but it's a bit stuffy in here, don't you think?" said the enchanting Miss Jones. "I think a little fresh air would just do us a world of good. If you don't mind?" She slipped her hand through Artie's arm.

"Oh, yes. Yes, of course." He escorted her outside into the alley behind the theater. Becoming stern, he turned to her and asked, "Now, Miss Jones, what have you done with Prof Koltien's manuscript?"

She laughed gaily as she slipped her hand from his arm to put up her parasol. "Oh, that dear old sweetheart! Why, he _gave _me that book!"

"Gave!"

"Mm-hmm. All I had to do was ask. Isn't he a dear?" She had the parasol open now and swung it up. Suddenly the tip was pointing directly at Artie's face and a puff of chartreuse powder erupted from it.

Artie jumped back, instantly yanking out his handkerchief to cover his nose and mouth. "What was that for?" he demanded from behind the cloth.

She laughed and swung the parasol the rest of the way up to rest it on her shoulder. "Oh, you'll find out soon enough, my dear Mr Gor… my _very _dear Artemus. With a name like that, you just can't help but be of great use to me! And as you'll see, shortly you won't even want to be anything else but helpful to me."

Her merry laughter washed over Artie; his eyes began to blink.

"And do you know," she added, "dear Mr West demanded to know what the dust was for too!" And as Artie blinked all the more heavily and began to sway on his feet, she said, "And he found out as well, just as you will, though of course now he doesn't remember. But then you won't remember either." She leaned forward to plant a kiss on his cheek, then said in a voice of command, "Come with me."


	7. Act Two, Part Three

**Act Two, Part Three**

Back in the workroom of the bicycle shop, yet another fighter charged in. Jim leapt up to swing from the rafters, catching his latest attacker with a teeth-rattling kick to the jaw. And when Jim jumped down again, he had one of the smaller wheels in his hands.

"Ha!" One of his opponents grabbed hold of the wheel and the two grappled over it briefly, Jim twisting it this way and that. In a effort to keep hold of the wheel, the robed one seized the two protruding ends of the axle, one in each hand.

How could he know that Jim had been hoping he would do that? West abruptly let go and slapped the wheel hard, sending it spinning. The combatant, surprised at the force of the wheel's angular momentum, tried to drop it - only the find that, instead of falling straight down, it continued on its most recent trajectory and smacked into the fighter's chest.

A snarl alerted Jim that he was under attack from yet another robed figure. Someone snatched up a long heavy-duty wrench from the tool box and swung on Jim with it. Jim ducked, grabbed the tray of tools sitting next to the tool box, and flung the whole thing at the wrench-wielder's head. With a gasp, the fighter dropped the wrench and threw up both arms to shield his face.

Jim paused a split-second to send a piercing glance at that one; there was something odd about the way the man had gasped.

But there was no time to think about that now, for two more fighters rushed Jim, one from his left, the other from his right. He stepped out from between them, fully expecting the two to crash into each other. Which they did, but not exactly. Taking a page from Jim himself, the larger one caught the smaller and gave that one a boost into the air so that the smaller one grabbed one of the large wheels hanging in the rafters and swung it down sharply. It came close to clipping Jim's head; he just barely dodged. But then he grabbed the wheel and gave it a good hard yank, throwing both the combatants in the human tower off balance so that they tumbled to the floor.

At the sound of someone rushing him from behind, Jim whirled and used the huge wheel still in his hands to smack away yet another attack, sending that fighter to the floor as well. He wielded the unwieldy thing, now as a shield, now as a weapon, beating back his foes.

Someone snatched up the wrench yet again, thrusting it into the spokes of the giant wheel, then giving it a twist to set it firmly within that multitude of wires. The robed one yanked hard, trying to pull Jim off his feet. He instead simply let go, and that fighter too went sprawling.

But they just kept coming at him. None were hanging back in the shadows any longer, and with the exceptions of the show-off and the lurker from behind the door, everyone Jim had sent to the floor had scrambled back up again. They pressed in around him, once more falling into that eerie silence. He tried to keep track of them all, but inevitably someone - or perhaps it was three someones - sprang at his back and managed to knock him down, although not out.

But now they all swarmed him, some seizing his arms, others his legs. They bore him up even as he struggled to get loose. "There!" hissed a sibilant voice, and someone swept the workbench clear, shoving the tool box off over the side.

They flung Jim onto the table, two robed figures gripping each of his arms and legs. One of the remaining pair hovered over him, face unseen under the deep hood. And the last…

"Leo's hurt!"

Jim's head snapped to the side to see the final robed figure leaning over the still-downed show-off. _There _was the woman's voice! She was part of the robed crew!

She threw back her hood, her eyes glaring at their captive. "You'll pay for this!" she snarled and snatched up one of the bicycle frames, then charged at the supine man.

"Jim!" came a voice, and for a second James West expected to see his partner making one of his patented timely entrances. But no, that hadn't been Artie's voice; it too was the voice of a woman. What's more, she had continued on past that single syllable, saying not, "Jim" but "Gemini."

The figure that had been hovering over Jim stepped between him and her enraged companion, blocking her from bashing the prisoner with the metal frame. "You remember what our Lady said. We were to keep him busy. Nothing more."

"Tell that to Leo!" Gemini snarled back. "And Libra! He knocked her out with the door!" Gripping the metal frame in her hands, she added, "Please, Scorpio. Just give me five seconds at him. Or one! That's all I ask."

"Stand down, Gemini!" Scorpio barked, and now that figure flung her hood back as well. "He is not to be hurt! The Lady will be very angry."

As soon as the argument had commenced, Jim had ceased struggling, waiting for the rest of his captors to get good and distracted by the quarrel. Now he drew up his legs and kicked out, breaking the grip of the four holding his lower half down. In the resulting confusion he managed to kick sideways at Scorpio as well, sending her reeling into Gemini. He then yanked him arms inward, pulling the remaining four off-balance.

No longer were the robed figures silent. The shock of the quiescent prisoner's sudden activity elicited gasps and exclamations all around - all of them in the voices of women. Jim rolled off the worktable and bolted for the door as the robed women scrambled to cut him off. Four of them managed to head him off, blocking his way as the others charged after him to set up yet another circle surrounding him.

Girls! Now he understood what had seemed off about them while they had fought him. Jim wasn't fond of battling against women - or at least, not with fisticuffs. "Who are you?" he demanded. "And who is this Lady who sent you after me?"

"That would be me," came a cheerful voice from the doorway. Jim whirled to see Miss Diana Jones, her hazel eyes twinkling, her parasol on her shoulder. And standing just behind her, his face entirely blank, was Artemus Gordon.

"What have you done to Artie?" Jim demanded. He started toward his vacant-eyed partner, but the ten robed girls caught at him and held him back.

As Jim struggled, Miss Jones threw a glance at Artie. "Oh, him? Why, I've only done to him the same as I did to you. Don't you remember?" And in the face of Jim's ferocious glare, she laughed gaily. "Oh,but of course: _you don't!_" And to her girls she said, "Release him, my acolytes."

They did. Jim instantly started for Artie, not giving a thought to the fact that Miss Jones was lifting her frilly parasol from her shoulder. Just as Jim stepped past her, he walked straight into a sudden cloud of chartreuse powder.

"And you won't remember this time either," she added as Jim tried to cough the insidious stuff back out of his lungs. "Look at me!" she now ordered.

He did.

"Good. You will listen to me and do everything I tell you to do. You will go with my acolytes. They will lead you to a bed where you will lie down and sleep until I call you." And to the black-robed girls she said, "Take him downstairs. I have business yet with dear Artemus."

Most of the acolytes moved to obey; however, the one called Gemini pushed forward and complained, "But what about Leo and Libra, my Lady? He hurt them!"

"Let us see." Miss Jones checked them both. "Take them down and attend to them," she ordered the girls. "They should wake shortly - in pain, no doubt - but I'm sure they'll soon be fine."

Some of the acolytes joined Gemini and Scorpio in collecting their fallen comrades. Then they all gathered by the worktable. Someone touched a switch, and the table slid to one side, revealing a set of stairs leading down into the dark. The acolytes escorted their wounded and their prisoner down the stairs, and the table slid back into its place.

"Well, my dear Artemus," said Miss Jones in satisfaction, "now that all that is taken care of, I should so like to pay a visit to the museum this afternoon. You _will _introduce me to the curator, won't you? I'm just dying to meet Dr Welis!"

Slowly Artie nodded.

"Oh, you're such a dear!" Miss Jones exclaimed. "But there are a few things first: to start with, you simply _must _behave as your typical affable self; we mustn't have anyone getting suspicious over you looking so blank!"

Instantly his expression returned to some semblance of normal.

"Good. Next, when you introduce me, you are to tell Dr Welis that my name is Cynthia Jones."

He nodded.

"And finally, when I dismiss you, you are to go straight back home to your train and sleep. And when you wake, you will remember nothing of what transpired from the moment just before the obedience dust first made its appearance. Do you understand?"

Again he nodded. "Yes, Miss Jones."

"Perfect!" She slipped her hand through his arm once more, laid the parasol on her shoulder, and said, "Shall we go?"

**End of Act Two**


	8. Act Three, Part One

**Act Three, Part One**

_Ohhh! _What had he been drinking for his head to feel like this? Artie groaned and strove to get his eyes open.

There. Well, he was in his own bed. Hmm, and fully clothed. He frowned. Had there been a party? Why was his brain so full of fog? What had he been up to, he wondered, that he was waking up feeling so muddled?

Wait - in fact, what _had _he been up to? He and Jim had been investigating, that he remembered. And Jim had sent him to check out things at the theater… Yes, he remembered arriving there… speaking to the manager… turning around…

The girl! Yes, the girl. She had been there. Phoebe Jones. Phoebe. Selene. Diana. The name kept changing, but the girl remained the same. So pretty, with the dimple in one cheek and the beauty mark on the other. He had gone outside the theater with her, had begun to question her, and then…

Blank. Nothing. No memories beyond that, not even of returning to the train.

Artie sat up and cradled his head in his hands. Ohhh, his _head! _Blearily he forced himself upright and stumbled to the washstand. He didn't even bother to lift the pitcher to pour some of its water into the basin; in the state he was in, he was afraid he'd either drop the pitcher or miss the basin. And so he simply dipped a hand into the mouth of the pitcher, scooped up some water, and splashed it onto his face.

Oh now - what a difference! Instantly he began to feel better, the fog clearing from his brain, energy returning to his body. Now he poured some water into the basin and plunged his hands in to dash the heavenly cool water onto his face again and again, finally dunking his face into the water entirely.

He straightened up, water dripping from his nose and chin and forelock. "Ah!" he sighed. "Now I feel human!" He grabbed a towel and dried off, then went in search of Jim.

But Jim was nowhere to be found! Not in his stateroom, nor in the parlor, nor across in the baggage car. No sign of Jim whatsoever, not even a note!

Artie sighed as he stood in the parlor again after searching through the train twice. "Great!" he muttered. "Second time in three days Jim's turned up missing! Or… wait!" He pulled out his watch and looked at it. Nearly seven o'clock. "But _which _seven o'clock? How long have I been sleeping? Jim met Miss Jones and lost a day, and so did Prof Koltien. And the last thing I remember is meeting her myself. So what day is it?"

He started for the speaking tube at the fireplace to call the engineer and ask him, then stopped again. Right. The varnish and baggage cars had been sidetracked to an out-of-the-way section of the depot while the engine was in the shop being refurbished. This time of day, whether morning or night, Orrin Cobb would be with the engine and not here.

Hmm. Well, he'd just figure it out for himself. Artie stepped out onto the rear platform of the varnish car and took a look at the sky.

Even in the midst of his befuddlement and anxiety, he was transfixed momentarily by the beauty of the sunset. Yes, sunset; he at least still knew where East and West were! The reddened orb of the sun was partway sunken beyond the western horizon, accompanied by brilliant Venus and obscure Mercury. Crepuscular rays led Artie's eyes away from the setting sun and he turned to see if the bands of light and dark would stretch all the way across the sky to become anticrepuscular.

Ah, and over there in the East was a second reddened orb, this one the fat orange sphere of the rising moon, its friendly face neatly bisected by the horizon.

So it was evening, but which evening? Thursday? Friday? "Surely not Saturday!" he mumbled to himself as he left the rear platform and headed for the depot.

The smiling garrulous evening clerk greeted him, chattering on excitedly about… something. "I'd like a copy of today's newspaper, please," Artie interrupted.

"Oh! Oh sure, Mr Gordon. We sold out hours ago, of course, but you can have my copy." The young man gathered it together and passed it over. "Oh, and look at that!" he added, pointing at the main headline. "Ain't that something? Here you and Mr West have been wondering about a rob…"

But Artie only let the endless talk wash over him unheard. He was too busy staring at the date at the top of the page. Friday! It was Friday evening, and he didn't remember a thing since Thursday afternoon.

"I gotta find Jim!" he told himself. "Oh, uh… thank you. Thank you very much for the paper. By any chance, have you seen anything of Mr West?"

The clerk shook his head. "No sir. Not since he came rolling in Wednesday night. Caused quite a sensation, he did! The way he…"

"Yes. Yes, thank you," Artie cut him off, not really needing to hear the young fellow's reminiscence of Jim's fight with the police. "Good evening."

As he turned to go, he heard the clerk give a brief laugh and say, "Yes sir. And you look like you've had a mighty good evening already!"

Hmm? Artie had had in mind to head straight out on his latest search for Jim, but now he glanced down and realized what a rumpled mess he was. Oh, and his chin. He suddenly recalled how prickly his chin and cheeks had felt while he was splashing the water on his face. All right then, a shave and a change were in order, he decided. But quickly. Very quickly. He strode back to the train to clean up and get his gun belt - and a few other useful items as well.

…

"Good evening, Mr Gordon!" said the stable boy to the much more presentable Secret Service agent about fifteen minutes later. "I was just settling Blackjack and Henry in for the night."

"Thank you, Jeff. I need to… Blackjack's here?"

"Well sure, Mr Gordon. You brought in both horses yesterday afternoon. Don't you remember?"

"_I _brought them in? Mr West wasn't with me?"

The boy nodded. "That's right, sir. You were by yourself and brought 'em both in. Then you mumbled something about needing to go home to sleep. In fact, you looked pretty worn out as soon as you said that. So worn out, I thought maybe you'd wind up sleeping right round the clock!"

Perceptive kid, thought Artie. "Well, I'm going to need Henry now, please."

"Oh? All right, sir, I'll get him ready for you." And as the boy saddled the gelding, Artie ruminated. Whatever had happened in the missing hours of Thursday afternoon, he had wound up with Jim's horse. But he didn't remember seeing Jim after they had parted ways, he to go to the theater and Jim to the…

"Bicycle shop. That's the first order of business. Ah, Jeff my boy! Would you happen to know where there's a bicycle shop in town?"

…

It was just as Jeff had informed him; there _was _a bicycle shop, but it had gone out of business some months ago. Artie prowled around the perimeter of the shut-up building, peering in at the windows, frowning, thinking. Jim had come here? Or had he even arrived? Perhaps he'd been waylaid before he could get here?

If only Artie could remember! He'd wound up with Blackjack somehow! Oh, but it was frustrating! He pulled the rolled-up newspaper out of his pocket and swatted it against his opposite palm. "C'mon, Jim, give me a clue! Where are you?"

He started to slap the newspaper against his palm again when he spotted something he hadn't noticed before: the headline the chatty clerk had tried to show him. Or at least, Artie saw a set of letters from the headline: ROBB. Hmm? Did that say robbery? He unrolled the paper, spreading it out to see:

MUSEUM ROBBED!  
Majority of Moonstone Collection Taken  
_Curator Slept Through It All!_

Quickly he scanned the article. So there had been a robbery at last! Was Jim's disappearance - or rather, his disappearance_s_ - connected with this? And Artie's own loss of a day as well? For that matter, the curator's slumber - did that correspond with what had happened to Artie, Jim, and Prof Koltien?

"I've got plenty of questions," Artie murmured to himself. "Let's see if I can find some answers at the museum."


	9. Act Three, Part Two

**Act Three, Part Two**

"He's so pretty!" Young Libra, her arm in a sling, brushed at the sleeping man's hair with her other hand.

"Of course he's pretty, silly. He's an Adonis. _Our _Adonis."

Libra traced her fingers over his rugged manly features. "What a pity we can't wake him up."

"Oh? To do what?"

Libra blushed a bit. "Oh… kissing, and… Well, you know, Virgo, all that sort of thing…"

Virgo smirked. "There will be plenty of 'all that sort of thing' for all of us. Later. After the ritual. Years and years of it."

"Well, yes, I know _that_." Libra cast a regretful look at the sleeping Adonis and added softly, "But not with _him_."

…

"Dr Welis isn't available, you know," said the docent as he led the way through the museum corridors.

"Yes, I read the article," Artie replied. He had arrived at the museum doors to find the place closed in the wake of the robbery - and the old saw about shutting the barn doors after the horse had fled inevitably came to mind. He had knocked anyway, persistently, until he'd attracted the notice of a guard. Showing his Secret Service identification had gotten him inside, and now a docent was taking him to the curator's office.

"If you read the article, then you know why the curator isn't available," the docent went on, then shuddered. "Oh, but such a terrible thing! One of the guards discovered the theft in the middle of the night, and when someone was dispatched to Dr Welis' home to inform him, the poor man was sleeping so soundly that it proved impossible to wake him! He's been taken off to the hospital, but Mr Phillips is here. He's the assistant curator."

They now arrived at Dr Welis' office, where the docent announced Mr Gordon's arrival, then bowed out.

Phillips, a lean, balding, bookish man in his late thirties with a stoop to his shoulders as if the whole world had recently landed on him, came around the desk to grasp Artie's hand fervently. "Oh, Mr Gordon, it's so good to see you! I hope you can help!"

"Well, I'll certainly try."

"Good! Perhaps the reason you were here yesterday to speak with Dr Welis will shed light on what has happened." And Phillips peered at him expectantly.

Artie blinked. "I… I was here? Yesterday?"

Phillips nodded. "Well, yes! I saw you, albeit briefly. You were speaking with Dr Welis here in his office, and when I came in, he instantly told me to take the rest of the day off."

Artie found himself in a - for him - rare condition of speechlessness. As he stood there mutely trying to wrap his thoughts around this revelation, Phillips added, "Oh, and there was a young lady with you as well."

Ah! "Can you describe her for me?"

Phillips shot him a puzzled look, but obliged with the details of the young lovely's brunette hair, her dimple and beauty mark, her frilly parasol. She was the many-named Miss Jones all right.

"But why were you here to speak with Dr Welis yesterday, Mr Gordon? Did you anticipate there would be a robbery here at the museum?"

"I, I'm sorry, Mr Phillips, but that's… er, that's a matter of national security. May I see the exhibit that was robbed?"

"Oh." Phillips face was even more crestfallen than ever. "Oh, yes. Please come have a look." He led the way from the office to the precious gems room where the glass cases of four displays stood open. "As you can see…"

"Why didn't they take all the gems from this display?" Artie interrupted, taking a close look. Three of the displays had been completely cleared out, but from the fourth only two stones were missing.

"We don't know," said Phillips. "In all they took thirteen moonstones, leaving the other nine in the collection. And yet the other displays in this room contain rubies, sapphires, even diamonds - far more precious, far more valuable. Why didn't they take those as well? And for that matter…"

"Yes," said Artie, "for that matter, how did they open the displays? They would have needed the keys for that, right?"

"Yes. But all the keys are accounted for."

"Including Dr Welis' keys?"

Phillips turned an appalled stare his way. "Oh, you can't possibly imagine that Dr Welis would have had a part in this robbery!"

"Oh no. No no. But he's incapacitated. Is it possible someone knocked him out and used his keys?"

Phillips passed a hand over his face. "Oh, _that's _what you meant! I… I don't know. I have no idea. But his keys are right where they ought to be, in the drawer of his desk in his office. I myself checked." The man sank onto a chair suddenly as if his legs had simply given out. "Oh, Mr Gordon! What am I to _do?_ What if Dr Welis doesn't wake up?"

"I'm sorry, Phillips. I wish I could help but…" His voice trailed off as his forefinger came up to thump at his nose.

Phillips looked up. "Yes?"

"Well… I don't know if this will work or not. But Jim went to the horse trough, Prof Koltien shaved, and I used the basin on my washstand…"

"Um… I'm sorry? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about going from groggy to not groggy. But we were already awake, so I don't know…"

Phillips shook his head. "Don't know what?"

Artie met his eyes. "I don't know if it will work. But my advice about Dr Welis is to have someone splash his face with cold water."

"_What?"_

"And in the meantime…" Artie settled his hat onto his head to take his leave. "I have to go see a man about the moon."

…

By ones and twos they gathered, that silent black-robed dozen, slipping into a large room underground. The room was furnished in the manner of a shrine, with a long table against the far wall and a lectern flanked by tall candle stands before the table, a tall marble font off to one side. Upon the table lay a number of items glittering by candlelight: more than a dozen luminous gemstones interspersed with an exquisite golden chalice and another golden item, this one about a foot long, its casing encrusted with precious jewels.

The twelve arranged themselves into two long rows, then stood at attention facing the door, waiting. Last of all entered one more figure, this one clad in robes of red. She paused for a moment as the others bowed to her, murmuring, "My Lady."

Her eyes swept the room. "Good. You are all here. And our prisoner?" She turned to Virgo.

"He sleeps still, my Lady. I administered more obedience dust just before leaving him locked in his cell."

"Excellent! And now, my acolytes," said Miss Jones, "attend carefully! We must practice the ritual we shall perform at midnight. It must be executed precisely according to dear Prof Koltien's book." She crossed to the lectern and held up the tome. "And once we have done so," she added as she shed a radiant smile upon them all, "then we shall acquire the prize of the ages! Attend, my acolytes!" She laid the book upon the lectern once more, opened it, found the spot she wanted, then began to read.

…

The hammering on the door brought hurrying feet within. "Yes yes yes, what is it?" said Prof Koltien as he dragged open the door. "Why, great Scott, Artemus!" the old scholar exclaimed. "Whatever is wrong? Come in, do come in. Will you have some tea?"

He started toward his kitchen, but Artie caught his arm and stopped him. "I'm sorry. There's no time for that. Have you seen this?" He pulled the rolled newspaper from his pocket and snapped it open, displaying the banner headline to the professor.

"Oh no," Koltien replied automatically. "I only take the paper on Sun…" And now he took in the words and gasped. "What? The museum! And the curator? Oh, poor Clive! He's a dear friend of mine, you know."

"Yes sir, but I believe he'll be fine, Professor. Look at the article though. Look at what was stolen. Moonstones. _Moon_. It all ties together; it _has _to." And as Koltien sank into an armchair, still clutching the newspaper, Artie paced back and forth.

"First there's the girl. She calls herself Diana, then Selene, then Phoebe, but all the names have a common theme: the moon. Moon goddesses all. In fact," Artie added, frowning, "she even made a remark about my own name, saying how appropriate it was." He scowled at the memory for a second, then gave an impatient wave of his hand. "But besides all that, we have four men now who have experienced the loss of a day: first Jim, then yourself, then me, and now apparently Dr Welis as well."

"You?"

Artie nodded. "Oh, yes. Woke up terribly groggy and came to realize I'd slept roughly twenty-four hours! It was only when I splashed cold water on my face that I came fully to my senses." He shot the professor a piercing look. "Sound familiar?"

"I… I… Yes! Yes, very familiar!"

"And now," Artie stabbed a finger at the paper. "Moonstones! Someone robs the museum and makes off with nothing but moonstones. It ties together! But the question that remains is: how does the missing manuscript fit with these things? Is there some… Professor? Are you all right?"

For the old man's face had gone white as a sheet. "Oh. Oh my word! Oh, she couldn't…!"

Artie knelt by Koltien's chair. "She couldn't what? What is it?"

The professor closed his eyes, running a hand over his face to give himself a moment to regain his composure. At last he said, "The _Fra Jubilatus_. As I mentioned before, it's an alchemist journal, all full of… oh, nonsense, of course. Spells and rituals. But you see…" He grasped Artie's hand and gripped it hard. "There are two rituals in it that involve moonstones. The one… oh, a silly thing." He shook his head dismissively. "A way of causing an inanimate object to speak with a human voice. But the other! Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!"

"What is it, Professor?"

"The other! Well, it's a ritual calling upon Hecate, high priestess of Artemis of old, summoning her to bestow upon all those present who bear a moonstone, you see - well, to bestow upon them eternal youth and beauty."

Artie nodded. "All right, that's the sort of thing that might well appeal to our Miss Jones. But go on, Professor. What's wrong?"

"Well… would you, ah, happen to know if any other items were also taken from the museum?"

Artie surged to his feet. "We can go ask. What other things do you have in mind?"

"Well… a golden chalice is central to the ritual, and also a golden blade. Ah, where… where is James?"

Artie had crossed the room to fetch the professor's coat and was now holding out to him. "I don't know. I think Miss Jones has him again, so I'm investigating the theft in the hopes that will put me on her trail. Finding her should lead me to Jim. Why?"

Koltien winced. His voice strained, he said, "Because another component of the ritual is… Well, she needs an Adonis."

Artie snorted grimly. "If she's captured Jim, she's certainly has a man who fits _that _description in spades!"

Koltien nodded, looking sick. "Do let's hurry. Perhaps when we inquire at the museum, we'll find the other items aren't missing after all. Perhaps… Oh, I do hope they aren't!"

Artie escorted the old man out the door. "If the museum isn't missing such items, it's not impossible she might have acquired them elsewhere," he remarked as Koltien locked up.

His eyes like saucers, the professor hissed, "Oh, don't say that!"

Artie hurried the man toward the carriage he had waiting. "But why not, Professor?" he asked as he helped him into the carriage.

"Because… Oh dear! I…" He shook his head. "I'll explain everything once we get to the museum and see if the chalice and dagger are gone too." And leaning forward, he spoke to the cabbie, urging him to "Hurry, man! Oh, do hurry!"


	10. Act Three, Part Three

**Act Three, Part Three**

Miss Jones closed the book and smiled upon her acolytes. "Let us begin! Each of you is to bear a stone." She waved at the table, at the thirteen moonstones, some smaller, some larger, that were arranged upon it. As the robed women moved forward, each to take up a stone, Miss Jones added, "And, let us see… Aquarius. Of course, it is but fitting that you should bear the chalice." The tallest of the women nodded and reverently took up the exquisitely bejeweled golden goblet as well as a moonstone.

"As for the final item…" Miss Jones looked about at her acolytes, then smiled. "Ah, yes. Gemini. You shall bear _this_." She lifted the remaining item and held it out.

"Gladly, my Lady!" Gemini responded, her eyes shining within the depths of her hood. She received the ancient, gold-encrusted object, cradling it in her hands.

"Excellent!" said Miss Jones as she herself took up the final moonstone from the table. "Now we shall rehearse the ritual until we have conned it perfectly, and once we have, we shall make a short journey with our dear Adonis and perform the rite in earnest. Places, my acolytes! And, Aquarius, fetch the water. Fill the golden chalice precisely half full."

Aquarius moved toward the font, then paused. "Half full, my Lady?"

"Yes, my dear, precisely half. Were you not listening? The remaining half of the chalice is to be filled with, ah, with the most precious wine which any of us shall ever imbibe." And she grinned a toothy grin.

…

Artie tried in vain all through the trip to the museum to get the professor to spell out what he was in such a dither over, but Koltien only shook his head, his restless hands twisting together until he at last tried to settle them by pulling out his pipe and packing it with his favorite dark, aromatic shag. He was so nervous, however, that he spilled the tobacco, and in trying to rectify that, he managed to break his pipe.

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!"

"Please don't worry, Prof Koltien," said Artie soothingly. "I'm sure everything's going to be all…"

Koltien let out a horrified gasp and pointed at the sky. "Is… is that…? Oh, do tell me that's not a full moon! A day before full perhaps, or the day after?"

"Well, no." Artie pulled out the paper again. "See here? Phase of the moon, exactly full. In fact, as I came out of the train after I woke up from my day-long sleep, I saw the moon rising just as the sun set. Classic definition of a full moon."

"No!" Koltien pleaded. "Oh, please…"

The carriage pulled up in front of the museum and Koltien bolted from it on shaky legs. Artie leapt out after him, tossing the cabbie a coin before rushing to catch up with the old man. Koltien reached the doors and started hammering on them just a second before Artie got there. "Phillips!" the professor cried. "Phillips, open up!"

A dark figure approached from within, unlocked the door, and pulled it open. "Why, Reuel!" said a man who looked uncannily like a much older version of Mr Phillips, "whatever are you doing here?"

"Clive!" For a brief shining moment Koltien's face broke out into a relieved smile. "You're awake! You're all right!"

"Well, I… Ah, and Artemus! Please come in, both of you." Dr Clive Welis held the door open for them, then locked up again behind them and started toward his office. "I'm awake now, thanks to the fact that someone dumped a basin of water onto my face. The doctors aren't sure how long I would have slept if no one had thought of that."

Artie grinned to himself, then murmured, "Try twenty-four hours or so."

"What's that?"

"Oh, nothing. But Prof Koltien thinks there was more to the theft than the missing moonstones."

"Yes! Yes, that chalice. The golden one, sacred to Hecate, part of the Ketterley collection. Is it missing?"

Dr Welis stopped in his tracks. "Why, I've no idea! The moonstones were so obvious, but the Ketterley chalice isn't on display right now. Let me send…" He stepped into his office and gestured the others inside, then turned to the assistant curator who was already in the room. "Phillips! Prof Koltien thinks the Ketterley chalice may have been stolen as well. Will you go check on that?"

"Yes sir, right away."

"And the golden blade?" put in Artie.

Blanching, Koltien added, "And the Maegnas dagger as well?"

"Yes sir," said Phillips and hurried away.

"Have a seat, Reuel, Artemus," said Dr Welis, taking his own seat behind his desk. "And please tell me what's going on. Does this…?" Frowning, he turned to Artie. "Does this have anything to do with your visit last night?"

"_Last _night!" Koltien exclaimed and glanced at Artie.

"It might," Artie replied, not really relishing the thought of having to convince someone - again - that last night was really the previous night. "There was a young lady with me…" He let his voice trail off into a lower pitch, just barely avoiding it rising instead to indicate a question.

"Oh yes, beautiful young woman, and so interested in our displays here! A Miss, ah… Cynthia Jones, wasn't it?"

Artie nodded and caught the look in Koltien's eyes. Yet another name associated with the moon!

"A pity that you had to leave us shortly after introducing her to me, Artemus. I'm sure you would have enjoyed the private tour of the museum I gave Miss Jones." He smiled at the memory.

"And when did she leave?" Artie asked casually.

"Oh well, she…" Now it was Welis' voice that trailed off as a formidable frown creased his brow. "Hmm. Curious you should ask me that, Artemus, for I… I don't…"

Artie leaned closer. "What _do _you remember?"

Welis looked baffled. "I remember meeting with you, and then being introduced to Miss Jones. After that she said good night to you, as did I. Then I walked off with her arm in mine to show her… to show her…" Again his voice trailed off. "Why, that's deucedly peculiar! I remember everything distinctly up until that point, but just as we were entering the Gems Room, I… I…" He shook his head in complete befuddlement. "Why, I just can't remember! The entire rest of the evening, right up until someone threw the water on my face - it's blank!"

Artie nodded in complete understanding. "Join the club," he muttered.

…

Miss Jones clapped her hands together. "Excellent, my acolytes! Well done. Well done indeed! And now," she consulted a delicate gold watch on a thin chain about her neck, "yes, ten-thirty. It is time to go. We shall have just enough time to reach the site for the ritual. My acolytes, let us awaken our Adonis!"

…

A knock came on Dr Welis' door, and the assistant curator entered.

"Yes, Phillips? What of the items the professor mentioned specifically?"

Phillips shook his head. "I can't find either of them, sir. They're both missing, the same as the moonstones."

"No…!" moaned Koltien. "What…?" His face pale, he looked up at them all. "What time is it?"

Each man consulted his pocket watch; nearly 10:30.

"Oh dear!" said Koltien again. "Midnight comes on apace!"

Artie shifted his chair closer and leaned toward the old scholar. "And what happens at midnight, Professor?" he asked.

"It's in the _Fra Jubilatus_, my boy. At midnight when the moon is full and at its zenith, that's when the ritual must take place."

"Ritual?" frowned Dr Welis. "What ritual?"

"The ritual for which we believe Miss Jones co-opted the moonstones," Artie replied. "But go on, Professor. What does the ritual entail?"

Koltien shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his face contorting. "Well… First, it must take place within a cypress grove at a place where three ways meet, for such a place is sacred to Hecate, you see. There must also be a freely flowing stream, for they will need living water to… to mix with the, ah… the, the wine." His voice caught on that last word.

"Go on, Professor," Artie said gently, encouragingly.

"Well…" The old man swallowed hard. "That's what the chalice is for, you see. Each participant, bearing a moonstone, must drink from the chalice of gold filled with the diluted, er, wine drawn…" He spoke further, but his voice dropped so low no one could make out his words.

"I'm sorry, Professor. Would you repeat that? Wine drawn…?"

Koltien's eyes winced shut. "Oh, Artemus! It's speaking euphemistically, of course. The wine is to be drawn, using the golden blade, from the heart of Adonis!"

Dr Welis made an impatient noise. "Wine drawn from the heart of Adonis?" he scoffed. "Whatever is that supposed to mean?"

"_You _know, don't you?" Koltien whispered to Artemus.

And indeed, the federal agent's face had gone white, sheer white. "Jim…!" Instantly Gordon leapt to his feet. "A cypress grove where three ways meet - where is there such a place around St Louis?"

"What are you talking about?" Welis demanded, even as Phillips said, "I know of a few places like that. Four, at least."

"Would you draw me a map?" asked Artie briskly.

"Yes sir!" Phillips hurried to the desk and, fetching out ink and paper, set to work.

"See here!" cried Welis. "What is this all about?"

"This," said Artie as he waited impatiently for his map, "is about Miss Various-Moon-Goddesses Jones intending to perform a ritual to ensure to herself - and to twelve companions, apparently - eternal youth and beauty by plunging a knife into the heart of Adonis." He shot a grim look at the curator. "And keep in mind, Dr Welis: James West is missing."

"_What?" _Welis leapt to his feet. "But… but that's madness! What sane man would ever believe in such a thing? Surely you don't think this is in any way feasible, Artemus!"

"Of course, _I _don't. But whether I believe the ritual will work or not doesn't make a bit of difference. The point is that Miss Jones evidently _does _believe it will work, considering how much effort she's put into both collecting everything she needs to carry out the deed _and _covering her tracks, making sure that each of the four men with whom she interacted these past few days would not remember what happened during those interactions."

"And because she believes this ritual will grant her what she craves," said Koltien miserably, "she's going to follow it to the letter and…" He blanched and fell silent.

"Except I'll be there first to ensure she doesn't get that far," Artie said grimly. "Phillips, do you have the map ready?"

"Yes sir." The young man blotted the ink hastily and handed over the sheet of paper.

Artie looked it over quickly, asking questions about anything that looked unclear. He then folded the page and slipped it into a pocket. "Thank you, Phillips," he said as he grabbed his hat and bid them all a hasty farewell. He hurried from the museum to the hitching rail outside where his gelding stood placidly cropping some grass. "We've got our work cut out for us tonight, Henry," said Artemus as he swung himself into the saddle. "And not much time either. Let's go!"

**End of Act Three**


	11. Act Four, Part One

**Note:** _Real Life is being a pain, and since I don't know when or even if I'll be able to get online tomorrow to post this chapter as scheduled, I'm posting it a day early._

* * *

**Act Four, Part One**

Miss Jones in her blood-red robe led the double-line of black-clad acolytes to the cell in which their prisoner slumbered. "Virgo, the lock, please," she said.

Virgo stepped forward and unlocked the door, then returned to her place among the others.

Miss Jones swept inside and stood over the prisoner. For a silent moment she watched him sleep, his chest slowly rising and falling. Then she leaned closer and whispered to him, "Adonis, awake."

Jim West's eyes snapped open.

"Arise."

He sat up, his legs swiveling over the side of the bed, and then he was upright.

"Good," said Miss Jones. "You are to come with us. You will be silent, and you will do as you are told. And you are to be robed." She turned to one of the acolytes and nodded. The woman she had indicated crossed to a hook in the wall and took down from it a robe of purest white. This she bore to the man, who accepted it blankly and shrugged it on.

"And now, let us go, my acolytes!" said Miss Jones. "The orb of Selene shall light us on our way! Cancer, Taurus, escort Adonis." She strode from the room ahead of them all, the women following after her in their wonted silence. And Jim West, in unnatural quietude, allowed himself to be led.

…

The four sites on Phillips' map formed a rough crescent through the outskirts of St Louis. Artie started with the easternmost, hoping to find Jim and his captors quickly.

The first crossroads seemed deserted as Artie arrived. He dismounted, tying Henry's reins to a bush and giving the gelding a gentle pat. Artie then drew his revolver and headed in furtively, looking and listening, searching…

There! A woman's giggle reached his ears. Artie whirled and bounded through the underbrush, counting on the element of surprise.

Oh, there was a surprise, all right. A young couple in a state of, er, partial _dishabille _let out startled shrieks at the sudden appearance of a big stranger brandishing a gun. The pimply-faced young man snatched up his discarded shirt and tossed it over himself. A second later his chivalry kicked in and he flung the cloth over his girlfriend instead. His voice cracking with panic, the fellow yelped, "Ye gods! I knew your pa said he'd tan my hide for me if he caught me with you again, Molly, but I sure didn't think he'd go and hire him a gunslinger!"

Gunslinger! Artie glanced at the revolver in his hand, then hastily holstered it. "My mistake," he murmured, feeling his ears burning. "Ah - but I don't suppose you've noticed any large groups of people out and about in these woods tonight, have you?"

…

Out from the city in clandestine procession marched a group of thirteen women escorting one man. The silvery moonlight shone down around them as they made their silent way toward a place where three ways met, alongside a certain stream that flowed merrily into the river.

…

The second site turned out to be much like the first - except that here, three sets of shrieks rang out instead of just one, bursting from the trio of young couples skinny-dipping in the stream by moonlight. These turned out to be no more help than the first pair, and now as Artie crept up on the third site on the map, he hoped fervently he wouldn't be stumbling upon any more surreptitious amorous trysts.

And in fact, he didn't. That was the good news. The bad news was that he also didn't find Jim, for this particular neck of the woods was entirely devoid of human occupancy save for Artie himself.

"Great," he muttered as he mounted Henry to head for the final site. "Isn't it always in the last place you look? I just hope I didn't show up here too early, so that Miss Jones and her entourage wind up over here with Jim while I'm over there!" Turning the horse, he kicked Henry into a gallop to try to outrace the moon in its inexorable course toward its zenith.

…

The fat orb of moon was climbing ever higher in the sky. "Here we are," said Miss Jones.

They were deep within a cypress grove. Nearby a rushing stream babbled merrily to itself as its waters flowed away toward the none-too-distant river. The road they had followed into the grove met here with two more paths, forming a Y.

"Right there," Miss Jones said, pointing at the very center of the Y. "Lie down there, Mr West, and go back to sleep."

Jim, his face impassively blank, did as he was ordered. The women gathered around him into a circle, Miss Jones standing at his head, with Aquarius carrying the chalice at her left and Gemini carrying the sheathed golden knife at her right. Miss Jones looked across the circle at Virgo. "Have you more of the obedience dust, my dear?" she asked.

"Yes, my Lady."

"Good. Have it ready. If Adonis should show any signs of waking, administer more of the dust to him."

"Yes, my Lady."

Miss Jones looked down at the man lying at their feet and dimpled happily. "What a picture he is, my dears! A veritable Sleeping Beauty." She chuckled. "Why, with enough of the obedience dust affecting our Adonis, he might well sleep through the entire ritual. Wouldn't that be lovely?"


	12. Act Four, Part Two

**Act Four, Part Two**

Artie dismounted and left his horse tied to a bush, then slipped cautiously closer to the final site on Phillips' map. He could hear soft voices in the moonlight. Miss Jones and associates, perhaps? He crept still closer to take a look.

"Selene gazes down upon us, my acolytes," said a woman's voice. "See how she sails closer and closer to the zenith! It will not be much longer before we shall begin. And when we are done…" The voice paused dramatically. "When we are done, ah, just imagine it, my dears! To be young and beautiful forevermore!"

Artie, listening, groaned inwardly. He had found Miss Jones, yes, of that he had no doubt. But she was making ready to do precisely as Prof Koltien had feared she would! Artie peered out cautiously, making mental notes of the positions of all the robed figures in view: thirteen standing and one supine. For a moment he had a clear sight of Jim's face; his partner's eyes were shut as Jim lay there, as immobile as a statue. Then the standing figures began to move, slowly circling around James West as Miss Jones' voice rose and fell, chanting:

_O Hecate, Queen of the Night,  
High Priestess of Artemis,  
Goddess of the Moon,  
We call upon thee!  
We beseech thee come,  
Attend to us, hear us,  
Grant us our request  
To be ever young,  
Ever beautiful,  
Ever desirable,  
Ever immutable.  
Hear us, O Hecate, and come!_

Us? thought Artie. _Our _request? What sort of acolytes had Miss Jones surrounded herself with, anyway? Well, there had to be some way of breaking up this party. A smoke bomb, perhaps…

"Aquarius!" Miss Jones cried abruptly. "Go and fetch the water!"

"At once, my Lady," said a voice. Curious voice, thought Artie as he watched the tallest acolyte, head held high, part from the circling mass. The voice was too high, he thought, to be baritone, yet there was something not exactly tenor to its timbre either. At any rate, as he watched that lone figure pace regally over to the nearby stream and kneel at the water's edge to fill the chalice, Artie had a new idea. He put away the smoke bomb and instead pulled out a handkerchief onto which he dribbled a bit of liquid from a vial.

The robed figure, still kneeling, was unaware of anything wrong until a cloth abruptly intruding itself within the depths of the black hood, introducing a sickly sweet odor. There was no time for the acolyte to struggle or even to think. Aquarius sagged to the ground as the chalice fell from a suddenly limp hand and plopped into the stream.

"I'll just take that, thank you," said Artie, plucking the golden cup out of the water. He hauled the inert figure away from the stream and out of sight beyond a coppice of trees. "I'll take this as well," he added, stripping the black robe off the…

Oh. Well, that, ah, that explained what sort of acolytes Miss Jones had, as well as why the voice of Aquarius had defied classification as either baritone or tenor! Fortunately the unconscious girl from whom he'd just yanked the robe was fully clothed underneath, albeit in an odd outfit that strongly resembled a suit of long johns. Artie slipped on the robe and pulled the hood up over his head, then carried the chalice back to the stream and filled it up.

Miss Jones frowned. "Aquarius!" she called out sharply. "Why are you taking so long? Selene approaches her height! We must hurry or we shall miss our chance this month and shall have to wait for the next full moon. Make haste!"

"At once, my Lady!" came an exact echo of the words the acolyte had last spoken to her mistress. The tall robed figure came up from the stream and returned to the spot at Miss Jones' left, bearing the golden chalice now brimming full of water.

"Excellent," said Miss Jones. She held out one hand for the chalice as she turned to the figure on the other side of her to say, "And now it is time for the knife. Unsheathe it and give it to m… What?" She whirled again to Aquarius, nearly spilling the water. "But this is full! Did you not pay attention when we rehearsed the ritual? The chalice is to be _half _full, that we may mingle the water with the precious wine. Take it back at once and pour out half the water!"

Again came the words, "At once, my Lady!" as the tallest robed figure accepted the chalice back. And the next moment, that acolyte poured out not half the water but every drop of it.

Directly onto Jim West's face.

For a moment Miss Jones gaped down in shock. Then, "You idiot!" she fumed. "You _fool! _Water negates the obedience dust! Virgo, quickly, use some more!"

But as the other acolyte stepped forward to obey, Aquarius blocked her with the hand holding the chalice, then decked her with the other fist. "So sorry, Miss Jones," a male voice rang out. "You called for Hecate, but I'm afraid she couldn't come. However," and now the tallest acolyte threw off the black hood to reveal, "Artemus is here!"

"_What?" _Miss Jones stared in horror for far less than half a second. Then she grabbed the knife from Gemini's hand and slashed it at the intruder in their midst.

She missed, badly. This was because a hand had chopped at the back of her knee, sending her toppling to the ground.

"Hello, James!" said a cheerful voice as Artie beamed down at his partner, then gave him a hand up.

"Good to see you, buddy," Jim replied as he eyed the remaining black-robed figures closing in on them in the moonlight. "You'll fill me in on how we got here?"

"Soon as I get a chance, yeah," said Artie. He was reaching under his robe to grab his revolver with one hand, the smoke bomb with another when the grounded Miss Jones shrieked out, "Fight, my acolytes! Fight like the Amazons you are!"

"_Yah!" _One of the acolytes sprang at Artie, knocking him flat on his back. Both gun and smoke bomb flew from his hands. The bomb cracked open the moment it hit the ground, spewing out its colorful gas in an empty area, affecting no one, while the gun disappeared entirely. Hissing like a snake, the robed acolyte landed on Artie and began pummeling him for all she was worth.

Jim too was under attack. Three of the acolytes seized him and were rushing him toward a tree, intending to ram him headfirst into it. Jim leapt up at the last second and ran right up the tree trunk a few steps, then kicked off into a somersault, breaking his foes' hold upon him. He slugged them, one, two, three, knocking them all out, then quickly divested himself of that flowing white robe.

Hmm. Beneath he was dressed in nothing more than his usual snug-fitting pants and his boots. Where the rest of his clothing had gone, he had no clue. Something else for Artie to fill him in on later, he supposed.

"Jim!"

West spun to see Artie still on the ground, clutching at his assailant's wrists as the figure in black writhed and twisted. Abruptly the hood fell back, exposing the figure's young and feminine features. "They're girls, Jim! They're all girls! _Watch out!"_

Amazons indeed! Two more robed figures plowed into Jim, driving him hard into a cypress trunk. "Hold him, my acolytes!" cried out a voice and suddenly the red-robed Miss Jones was standing before the agent, the golden knife in her hand. A light of lunacy shone from the woman's eyes as she smiled at him. "Perhaps this is not precisely the way the ritual ought to be performed," said the many-named Miss Jones, "but it will have to do!" And she lifted the knife on high to plunge it into his heart.

Using the very acolytes who were holding him fast as supports, Jim kicked out at Miss Jones, sending her spinning in one direction, the knife in another. Before either could hit the ground, he planted his feet again, then yanked the two shocked acolytes off their feet and into each other, cracking their heads together. He whirled to go to Artie's aid, but yet another acolyte charged into him and down they both went.

Meanwhile, Artie was trying to deal with his opponent without actually having to hurt her. She fought like a wildcat, and he now had several sets of claw marks across his cheeks to prove it.

Wildcat. There was a thought! Taking a firmer grip on the girl's wrists, Artie rolled, sending both himself and his adversary bowling along the slight slope down toward the stream. At the last second, he released her hands even as he flung out his elbows to stop his own momentum.

_Splash! _The loud liquidy noise was followed almost immediately by an even louder wail. "I'm _wet!" _squealed the acolyte. She struggled upright in the heavy robe, then wrestled her way out of the cloth and slung it from her before squelching back out of the water to stand over Artie.

He jumped to his feet, watching her. Was she going to attack again? Miss Jones had called her acolytes Amazons and…

Oh. Apparently not. Instead of going after Artie again, the young woman sank down on the bank of the stream and burst into tears. "I don't like this any longer," she whimpered. "It's not fun anymore!"

A body slammed into Artie, knocking him off his feet. "What did you do to Sagittarius, you beast!" the fresh adversary snarled.

"And don't call me Sagittarius anymore either!" the weeping girl sniveled as Artie found himself on the ground once again. "You know my name is Jessica!"

In the meantime, while Miss Jones and her remaining two acolytes combed the underbrush for the missing golden knife, Jim was finding his latest opponent to be quite a handful. The girl had flung aside her bulky robe and was resolutely giving him more of a fight than any of the others who had come before her. "No pulling punches this time, Mr West," she growled, then drove at him, delivering a one-two combination that sent him to the ground.

She dove after him, but he rolled and came to his feet. Instantly she did the same, dropping into a wrestler's crouch, her glinting eyes fixed on him as they circled each other.

Jim really wasn't fond of hurting girls. He continued to circle, watching her, waiting for her to make the next move, so that he could…

She rushed him, throwing her shoulder into the pit of his stomach to bowl him over. She didn't even notice how, at the last second, he slipped back a bit, blunted the force of the impact. He did fall, though.

And took her with him. As he hit the ground on his back, his hands seized her even as his foot came up and caught her right in the belly. A moment later, the girl was flying through the air.

_Splash! _Right into the stream. She came up spluttering and drenched, just like Sagittarius before her. And like Sagittarius, she squelched ashore and flung herself down on the bank. She didn't burst out crying, no, but the set of her shoulders said plainly that she had no more interest in fighting.

"Leo?" the erstwhile Sagittarius inquired. "Are you all right?"

She shrugged. "I guess so, Jessica. But it's not Leo, you know; it's Lois."

Those girls sure didn't relish a dunking! Jim thought as he took a second to catch his breath, then started for his partner again. Artie was on his back, attempting to fend off his latest adversary with one hand while with the other he was struggling to pull something from a pocket.

Before Jim could come to his aid, though, a voice cried out, "My Lady! I've found it!" Jim whirled as one of the acolytes seized something up from the ground, something that glittered in the silvery light.

"Excellent!" called Miss Jones as she strode over and reclaimed the knife. "Now, Pisces, I'm sure Capricorn can handle our imitation Aquarius over there," and she gave a nod toward Artemus, "so you come assist Gemini and me, dear, as we finish dealing with our impressive young Adonis."

For a split second Artie thought Miss Jones had said, "Jim and I and me," but all the other zodiacal names disabused him of that idea. As Miss Jones and her final acolytes turned toward Jim, Artie managed at last to get hold of the item for which he'd been fishing. But before he could produce the same vial he'd used earlier to knock out Aquarius, little Miss Capricorn flung her robe over Artie's head, wound its length around his neck, and started to pull it down tight.


	13. Act Four, Part Three

**Act Four, Part Three**

"Well," said Miss Jones, smiling at Jim as she strolled casually towards him, "you certainly are as advertised. Rugged, handsome, and a fighter _par excellence_. At what else, I wonder, do you outclass every other man alive, hmm?" She slinked closer, pausing to lean over one of her fallen acolytes. "Alas, poor Virgo," she tsked. "Your friend isn't much of a gentleman, is he, the way he positively _decked _this poor girl!" Miss Jones straightened up again and stepped over that poor girl, still talking. "Well, I suppose perhaps he simply wasn't aware that he was hitting a member of the fairer sex. Oh, but I do wonder what he did with Aquarius!"

Jim was watching her carefully, peripherally aware of Artie still struggling against an acolyte close to the stream, aware also that Pisces and Gemini were no longer in view. As Miss Jones' words continued to pour out of her mouth, Jim simply ignored her ceaseless babble in favor of listening for the sound of someone sneaking up behind…

There! Jim swung up his left arm, the back of his fist connecting squarely with someone's face. With a grunt that someone hit the ground.

From Jim's right a second someone punched him solidly in the gut. Jim doubled over, but as he toppled, he grabbed the hem of his assailant's robe, pulling her over on top of him. Both landed heavily across the other assailant, eliciting yet another grunt from her. Jim rolled to his feet to find that his latest opponent had done the same. She launched herself at him, crowing, "I've got you now!"

It was pitch-black for Artie under that robe, and Capricorn was doing her best to cut off from him not just the light, but the air as well. Still he grappled with her, albeit one-handedly. His chest was heaving though, obviously desperate for air; his strength was waning, his body gradually drooping.

Slowly his hand sank to the ground, his fingers clawing weakly at the dirt. And then he went utterly limp.

Capricorn stared down at the man from her perch astride his middle. Panting, she gave a silly chuckle, then started to loosen the robe from around his head to have a peek.

_Smack! _The hand that had clawed at the ground now sprang up and flung a fistful of dirt into her face. And as she spluttered, eyes winced shut, trying to spit all the soil back out of her mouth, his other hand came up with that fateful vial at last pulled from its hiding place in his clothes. He thumbed away the stopper and thrust the vial under her nose.

Like Aquarius before her, Capricorn didn't know what had hit her. The girl crumpled across him and Artie, carefully clamping his thumb over the mouth of the vial, rolled her off. "Nighty-night, little Goat-girl, and pleasant dreams," he murmured. "Now if I can just find that stopper again so I can have my thumb back!" He began feeling about on the ground searching urgently for the tiny bit of cork. But only for a moment. A sound drew his attention and he looked over at…

"Jim!" Uh-oh, his partner needed help. A quick assessment of Jim's situation told Artie the vial would be of little help, so he tossed it away. Something else, he knew, would do the trick nicely - if he could just find what had become of it in time.

And what had Artie seen? Not the sight of Jim fighting the remaining acolyte, for that little skirmish had been brought to an abrupt end when a cloud of powder appeared in Jim's face. He sneezed and coughed as the pernicious dust invaded his lungs, and then his brain.

"Be still!" came a voice, and Jim was. He stood passively, not even blinking, as Miss Jones smiled up at him. "Good. We'll have no more of that now," she said.

"No more fighting?" the acolyte complained. "But he still needs to be punished for what he did to Leo and Libra earlier!"

"And he will be, my dear Gemini," the lady in red purred. "Just not _that _way." Holding out the knife to her, Miss Jones added, "Care to do the honors?"

Gemini grinned. "Oh yes, my Lady!" She took the gleaming golden knife from Miss Jones' hand and turned toward the immobile James West. Moonlight glittered along the blade, winking off its smooth sharp edge. "For Leo," Gemini whispered. "And for Libra, and for Pisces there as well. For all my friends you've bested in this battle!" She raised the knife.

"And for immortal youth and beauty," Miss Jones reminded her. She glanced up. "Selene is at her height. Do it. Do it now, or it will be too lat…"

_Sploosh! _From out of nowhere, so it seemed, a chaliceful of water dashed into Jim West's face, waking him out of his trance. "Ha!" cried Artie as he finished the swing of the golden cup to knock the knife from Gemini's hand.

The fight was on anew, Jim and Artie against Gemini and Miss Jones. Artie dropped the chalice to grapple hand-to-hand with Gemini, who proved to be even more of a wildcat than Sagittarius before her. Artie caught her wrists and tried to aim her toward the stream, but she kicked him in the knee, throwing him off balance, throwing him to the ground, where she kicked him again for good measure, right in the side of the head.

He groaned and was still.

Jim went after Miss Jones even as she scuttled away from him across the moonlit crossroads. "It's over now," he said. "You can't win."

"Oh, can't I?" She laughed as she fell to the ground before him. "You don't even know what constitutes winning in my view, so how can you know I won't win? How do you know I haven't won…" and as he now leaned over her, her hand came up and slashed at him. "…already!" she finished in triumph.

Jim leapt back, then winced at the sudden pain across his torso. He looked down to see beads of blood welling up in a line across the left side of his chest. Not a very long line - maybe three inches - and no deeper, he assessed, than a paper cut. Scowling, he shifted his gaze back to the jubilant Miss Jones just in time to see her smirk at him as she raised the golden knife to her face.

And smugly she licked his blood from the blade.

What on earth was wrong with that woman? Jim thought. He stepped forward, reaching toward her to wrest the weapon from her hands.

_Whap! _A body landed on Jim's back, knocking him sideways into the underbrush. He rolled, tossing the girl aside as he surged back to his feet. She sprang up as well, her eyes fixed on Jim West. "You gorilla!" she snarled. "You stay away from the Lady!" She aimed a roundhouse punch at him.

He dodged it easily and tried to catch her, but as soon as he wrapped his arms around her, she rammed an elbow into his ribs and slipped from his grasp.

Flinging her robe aside, she glowered at him and snarled, "You hurt Leo and Libra in the first fight, and now you've done it again in this one, and for that you're gonna pay!"

"First fight? What first fight? It's all been one fight from the time I woke up."

"Oh no," she assured him as she pressed towards him, her eyes glinting with rage. "We fought before, in the bicycle shop. The Lady used the obedience dust on you and made you forget. But _I _haven't forgotten. You knocked out my friends, and that's unforgivable." She snatched up a tree branch and swung it at him.

Again Jim dodged. She took another cut at him with the branch, but this time he caught it and yanked it hard to pull it from her grasp.

But she didn't let go. Instead of tugging back, she let herself be pulled in as well and slammed into Jim's chest, right into his fresh wound. He fell, taking her with him again, but she writhed and squirmed and scrambled free, then turned back to kick and stomp at him, trying to attack his wound yet again.

He swatted her aside, knocking her down as he rolled and came to his feet. She did the same and went right back to kicking at him, aiming high this time, aiming for his chin. He caught her ankle and twisted it sharply, sending her back to the ground. She stayed down barely a moment before she was right back up, attacking him anew.

This time when he grabbed her ankle, he flipped her upside-down, then flung her over his shoulder and headed for the stream.

"Let go of me!" she growled, hammering on his back. She tried to kick as well, but his grip on her legs was firm.

"I don't think so - Gemini, is it?"

She snarled in response and kept hammering.

"You're quite good, Gemini. So was that girl there, the one I tossed into the stream."

"That's Leo! She has a name!"

"Mm. But no one ever introduced us. And besides, I understand she prefers to be called Lois lately."

"Let go of me!" Gemini demanded yet again. And Jim, having arrived at the bank of the merry little stream, obliged. _Sploosh! _once again!

…

Minutes later, after Artie had come to, he and Jim went about the cypress grove collecting all the girls and deliberately tossing them into the stream. It was interesting how defiant each girl was before her dunking and how meek or indignant or just plain tired each was afterwards. Jim set about tying the girls up, using their own black robes to do so, while Artie relieved them all of the stolen moonstones, then searched the area for the chalice and the knife and its sheath.

"Hey, Artie."

"Hmm?" Artemus had just spotted the knife and scooped it up along with a couple of large moonstones that were lying on the ground beside it. "Something wrong?"

"I'll say: where's Miss Jones?"

"What?" Artie whirled and took a good look at their prisoners, counting noses. Two… three more… and those two… "A dozen!"

"Right. And there should be thirteen."

Artie groaned. "Tarnation! I thought we had them all! You don't suppose…"

"That she switched robes with one of the others? I've looked; none of these has that distinctive beauty mark on her cheek."

"She could have covered it in a heartbeat with a little dab of makeup." Artie came and had a look as well, then shook his head. No, he didn't see her here either. "Could she have swum away? We were pitching all of them into the water. Nice how that takes the fight out of them. She must have been using that powder on them as well."

"Mm-hmm. 'Fight like Amazons.' But, Artie, didn't you notice? The water in that stream barely came up to their knees. I doubt if anyone could swim in it."

"Ah. So much for that clever idea." Artie glanced around, picked up the chalice and dumped the moonstones and knife inside, then gave his nose a baffled thump with his forefinger. "But if she's not here, Jim, then where is she?" He shot a look at the girls. "I don't suppose any of _them _knows."

If they did, they weren't about to share that information.

"Didn't think so," Artie muttered. "Now as I recall, the last I saw of her was… let's see, just before I got knocked out."

"And the last I saw of her was…" Jim paused as the gruesome image sprang up in his memory of Miss Jones lifting the knife and licking his blood from it.

"Jim?" Artie peered at him in puzzled concern.

Jim shook his head. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. Right now, let's take these girls off to the police station."

"Yeah. Let them be Chief Chesterton's worry from now on!" Artie tucked the chalice and its contents into a pocket and followed Jim toward their prisoners.

**End of Act Four**


	14. Tag

**Tag**

"There you go, gentlemen," said Dr Mitchells as he snapped his black bag closed. "All stitched up - again." He shot both West and Gordon sharp looks.

"Thank you, Doctor," said Dr Welis as he rose from his desk to escort the physician out of the still-closed museum. "How can we repay you?"

"By finding _someone _to keep a close rein on that pair of irrepressible young scrappers! They'll be the death of me - if they aren't the death of themselves first!"

"Thank you, Dr Mitchells," said Jim as he pulled on a shirt Phillips was loaning him.

"We'll try to be good boys from now on, Mother," added Artie.

Dr Mitchells only snorted as he left the office in the company of Dr Welis.

"Well, I'm certainly glad," said Prof Koltien, "that no worse harm came to either one of you than those few injuries, though I'd have preferred, of course, that no harm had come to you at all! But you don't know what became of Miss Jones?"

"No, Professor," Jim said to their old friend. "By the time we took care of her girls, she was gone."

"Vanished without a trace," added Artie.

"Hmph," snorted Dr Welis. He had just returned to his office now, having seen Mitchells out. Welis scowled at his remaining guests in their chairs scattered throughout the office as he took his own seat behind the desk again. "No one vanishes without a trace," the curator declared. "It's impossible."

"Well, she certainly wasn't anywhere around anymore," Artie amended. "And we looked."

"We went back to the crossroads after we delivered all the girls to police headquarters…"

"Took a whole bunch of officers back with us too. As far as we know, they're still searching for her."

"And after that, we went to the bicycle shop and searched there as well."

"And though we didn't find her, we did recover the last of the pilfered items."

"Which we then brought back here to the museum."

"Mm-hmm. Even if we didn't find her, at least we were able to restore all the treasures to you two fine gentlemen." Artie nodded at the tome Prof Koltien was clutching to his breast.

As for the other treasures, "Yes, Phillips will soon have the moonstones, the chalice and the knife all returned to their proper places," said the curator, "and for that, Jim, Artemus, I do thank you from the bottom of my heart." He stood and reached over the desk to shake each agents' hand warmly.

"As do I," put in Koltien, following suit.

"But," Welis added as he seated himself again, "this business of Miss Jones having vanished without a trace!" He shuddered. "No, no, no. She must have gone _somewhere_, and the sooner she's found and apprehended, the sooner I'll sleep soundly at night again!"

"As will I," Koltien agreed. "But you know, gentlemen, there is one thing I don't understand." He laid the tome gently on the desk, opened it reverently, and began paging through it. "You see, this book was written entirely in Latin by hand, and the script is devilishly hard to penetrate even for an expert on ancient languages such as myself. So how did the young woman… Oh."

"Oh?" asked Jim as they all turned to stare at him.

With a sheepish look on his face, the expert on ancient books lifted a sheet of ordinary stationer's paper from between two leaves of the manuscript. "Well, my friends, I seem to have just answered my own question," he said. "This, in my own hand, is a translation of the spell Miss Jones tried to cast this night. Hmm…" He tilted it toward the closest lamp and began perusing the writing.

"We're very glad to return the book to you, Prof Koltien," said Artie, a twinkle in his eyes.

Once more resuming his favorite topic, Welis asked, "But where do you supposed Miss Jones may be now?"

Jim shook his head. "There's no telling - yet. She may have taken off for parts unknown, or she may be holed up somewhere waiting for the manhunt for her to die down."

Welis seized on that. "But there _will _be a manhunt?"

"Oh yes," said Artie. "The St Louis chief of police started gathering men to search for her as soon as we brought her girls to the jailhouse."

"And remember, we led a great number of policemen out to the grove already and left them there combing it for clues," said Jim.

"Oh, my my my!"

Again the three turned to look at Koltien, who was now chuckling as he turned one page of the ancient tome back and forth, inspecting each surface.

"Professor?" Artie prompted. "Is something wrong?"

"That would depend entirely upon one's perspective," the old man replied. "What would be wrong for our dear Miss Jones might well be perfect in our estimations. Look here." He turned the book so that they could see the Carolingian script spilling across the pages. "See here? This corresponds to the text that is translated into English, presumably her reason for using that powder of submissiveness upon me. Apparently she told me to write out what the spell requires. However," and he flipped over the loose sheet of paper, "as you can see, the spell is _all _that I wrote out. The contents of the other side of the page in the book," he turned to that, "are entirely missing."

Welis frowned impatiently. "And this means something?"

"It could mean a good deal, my dear Clive! You see, gentlemen, on the other side of the page are the warnings."

"Warnings?" Jim shot Artie a look.

"Oh my, yes! Fra Jubilatus carefully delineated a number of warnings regarding the fate of many who attempted to win for themselves eternal youth and beauty by means of this spell. There is, for example, a woman called Clarimona. For her, eternal youth and beauty took the form of becoming a spring of fresh flowing water. Another, Dame Ysabella, was transformed into a yew tree. Asplindetta was transmuted into a swarm of bees - well, how they would be considered eternal is quite beyond me, of course, but the point is, gentlemen, the point…" His gnarled old finger tapped the text. "…is not to leave it to the caprices of Hecate to choose the form one's eternal youth and beauty will take." He grinned. "Tell me, Jim, Artemus, when you were searching the grove for any trace of our Miss Jones, did you happen to notice a new tree growing there? Or a freshly flowing stream?"

_Wham! _Dr Welis jumped from his seat and smacked his palm down flat on the desk, causing the tome and practically everything else on the desktop to jump. "Really, Reuel! You cannot be serious!"

"Oh now, Clive, of course I…"

But whatever reply Koltien had in mind to make was drowned out by a sudden commotion out in the hall, followed by the office door springing open. "Dr Welis!" cried the assistant curator as he burst in, hanging onto the doorknob, his face white, his eyes staring.

"My word, Phillips, what's the matter with you?" Welis barked. "What do you mean, barging into my office without knocking?"

"I… I'm sorry, sir! It's just that…" His words failed him and he stood there for a moment, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly like a fish out of water.

Artie crossed to the liquor cabinet and poured the young man a brandy. "Here."

Phillips nodded and grasped it gratefully, downed it in a gulp, then choked and sputtered. Both Jim and Artie pounded him on the back until he settled down.

"Better, Phillips?" asked the curator.

"Y-yes, I think so, sir," Phillips faltered.

"Then out with it, man! What's wrong?"

"Well… Well, sir, I was doing as you ordered me, putting each item back into its proper place. The chalice, and then the knife, and then the moonstones. All thirteen moonstones, you know."

"All right. Then what?"

"Then…" Phillips reached into his pocket and pulled out something carefully wrapped up in a handkerchief. "I put all the moonstones back into their places, each one onto the stand from which it had been taken. And after I was done…" Now he passed the cloth with its concealed burden to the curator. "…I still had this one left."

"This one? What, are you saying you still had a moonstone left over? Then you must have miscounted!"

"Oh no, sir. I looked and looked again. Every stand is filled and… and this one… well, sir, look at it. Just look at it!"

Frowning, Dr Welis unwrapped the handkerchief, then sat down into his chair again with a cry of alarm, dropping what was in the cloth onto the desk as if it had burned him.

Jim, Artie, and Prof Koltien all pressed in to have a look. The cloth had fallen partly over the moonstone, for that indeed was what Phillips had brought in, concealing most of the lustrous gemstone from sight.

Jim reached out and pulled the cloth away. "Well, it's probably the biggest moonstone I've ever seen in my life, but I…"

His voice stopped abruptly as beside him, Artie made a noise that defied transcription.

"_What is that?" _Prof Koltien gasped.

Gently Jim used the handkerchief to turn the stone around. Yes, from this angle they could all see plainly what they had initially hoped they were only imagining. The stone. It had markings on it, two greenish ones near one edge, a single longer reddish one near the other. Markings that… moved.

"It… it's the lighting," Dr Welis gabbled. "It must be a trick of the light. That's all. That's all it _can _be."

Jim and Artie leaned closer, then shared a glance with each other. This was no trick of the light. The greenish markings were turning this way and that together, just like eyes. And the long red mark - that was opening and closing, as if forming words, forming the soundless words of "Help me."

Just like a mouth.

"Ah… Jim?" murmured Artie.

"I know. I see it, but…"

"Hmm. May I?"

Everyone leaned back as Prof Koltien accepted the cloth from Jim and scooped up the large moonstone. He tipped his head as he examined the stone closely, then sighed and folded the cloth around it, tucking it into his pocket. "I have a place for this in my collection," he said. "If no one objects?"

"You… you won't be putting that on public display, will you?" Welis squawked.

"Public? Oh my, no. No no no, Clive, no fear of that. I'll put her - my apologies, Clive! It. _It! _- I'll put it in a place I often go by myself to gaze on beauty that lasts, well, if not forever, then certainly longer than the span of normal human existence."

"And that place would be, Prof Koltien?" asked Artie.

"Why, among my rare editions of books, of course, my friends!" He smiled and took up the tome as well. "Good day, gentlemen."

Jim and Artie watched him go, then they too made their farewells to Dr Welis and Phillips. They waited until they had left the museum entirely before Artie murmured to Jim, "Do you really think, ah…?"

"That the murderous Miss Jones was transmuted into a moonstone, Artie? Of course not."

"But it certainly looked…! Ah… Well, then, I suppose we'll be joining the search party down there in the cypress grove, hmm?"

Jim nodded. "I will. But not you."

"Not… not me? And why not?"

Jim waved at the rising sun. "You've been up all night, Artie. You need your sleep."

"Oh, I do, do I? And what about you?"

"I had plenty of sleep, remember? I didn't wake up till about midnight. So you go on to the train," and Jim gave him a friendly cuff on the shoulder, "and get all the sleep you want."

"Oh no. You're not getting rid of me that easily, James my boy! You're up to something! Now what is it?"

Jim shrugged. "We were two men being assaulted by over a dozen crazed women. We were tossing them into the stream. What's to say we didn't miscount and not notice that one of them didn't come back out of the stream?"

Artie sighed. "Jim, we already went over that. We didn't miscount."

"Mm. Maybe we did, maybe we didn't. It's plausible."

"Oh sure, somewhat more plausible than Miss Jones getting turned to stone! But you're not really going to go tell the police chief that we lost count and let her get away, are you? Given the way he feels about you?"

"All right then, Artie. Then what do _you _want to tell Chief Chesterton?"

"I…! Well…" Artie stood for a moment, his mouth open but no sound coming out.

"Mm?"

Artie snapped his mouth shut. "All right, I don't know. I'm a little tired right now to think up a good lie."

"Fine then. You go back to the train and get some sleep, and I'll tell the chief you'll have the answer for him when you wake up." He started to walk away.

"Huh? Wait, no, Jim!"

Jim turned back. "Yeah, Artie?"

"Ah… Look. Just… just tell the chief whatever you want and I'll endorse it. Ok? But I do want to know one thing."

"What's that?"

Artie shot Jim a sheepish look. "What do we do if little Miss Jones shows up again and she's not a rock at all?"

"That's easy."

"Yeah? Easy? What then?"

Jim grinned. "We just take her to Prof Koltien, explain that we've made a mistake, and swap him the girl for the moonstone. And he can keep _her _in his locked book cabinet." Jim winked and walked away.

"Oh ha ha ha," muttered Artie as he shuffled off toward the train. "Locked in the book cabinet indeed. If I know Reuel Koltien, instead of putting her in the cabinet, he'll set her up on a pedestal and… Wait a minute. Moonstone! Inanimate object!" Eyes wide, Artie clapped his hands together. "That's it: the other ritual! Jim! Hey, Jim! I know why Prof Koltien wanted to take that moonstone. Jim! Hey, wait!"

And Artie took off running to catch up with his partner.

**FIN**

* * *

_Author's note: I completely forgot to thank Cal Gal for graciously betaing this for me! Thanks go also to some kind folks here at FFN who helped me come up with a Latin name for Prof Koltien's other book. (And I wonder if anyone made the effort to try to translate that title...)_

_And one more point: the idea of someone being granted a wish for eternal youth and beauty by being transformed into such a thing as a tree or a stone was a notion I picked up years ago from the book _Esbae: A Winter's Tale _by Linda Haldeman. I always thought the author had cited a real legend from antiquity about King Solomon, but when I started researching the story to incorporate it into TNOT Stolen Hours, I could find no trace of it, except for within the pages of _Esbae_. My congratulations to this late great author for so seamlessly inventing history!_


End file.
